Infiltration
by Moveddesu
Summary: The BLU Spy wants to investigate the RED Team after they murder the previous BLU Spy after hours, but goes through hell in doing so. RED Sniper x BLU Spy, Possible Engineer x Scout.
1. A Quick Breather

Thank you to Anne the Cat Detective for being a wonderful beta and wonderful person to talk to.

* * *

The battlements are only bad in the daytime, when the Snipers are bloodthirsty and seeking a quick headshot to boost their morale. In the evenings, the Spy prefers to come out for a smoke. Pulling the cigarette from his lips and letting the smoke escape, the Spy looked to the sky for nothing in particular. There wasn't anything, to his knowledge and belief, up there. Today's battle, a rather drawn out one in which everyone was humiliated by the lack of a victory, deserved a pity smoke. Spy, having done mediocre in the ranking of his teammates, also needed a breather from the base's usual cacophony. However, with no victory, it wasn't all too loud.

Instead, they had something else to cheer about.

His leg swung lightly in a rhythm that his mind left him in, it eventually turning numb but retaining the movement. Spy looked out from the distance to see the RED base, practically camouflaging with the evening's dawn. The dust from the desert landscape blew across the land, withering to nothing once it touched the water. He closed his eyes. Spy knew that the team- both RED and BLU -were nothing but dust to Mann Co. His time would be up and then they'd be _disposed of._

The Spy pulled lightly at his balaclava. He wanted a break from its imprisonment.

"...Hey. Spoi."

The Spy's jerking reaction to the Australian's startling welcome was to nearly fall off the battlements and plummet to his pain and injury. The lanky and agile man quickly grabbed the Spy by his suit and yanked him back, causing him to fall flat on his back with a huff of disdain. The shoes of his comrades running off the battlements created a thick layer of skin, muscle, blood and sand. The Spy was green with disgust, lifting himself up and immediately turning to the Sniper with a blank look with a subtle hint of contempt.

"May I help you?"

"We're done with that guy y'brought in."

The Sniper averted his eyes to the side. The Spy's facial expression did not waver.

"What did ze soldier do with him?"

"He... broke 'im, essentially. We've got everything we needed out of 'im. What will ya do now, Spook?"

The Spy never found himself to be fond of his Sniper, nor his obnoxious 'pet names' granted in jest of his abilities. Of course, his talents kept the man from being killed as frequently, as most Snipers do not feel the need to unscope lest they are respawning from a death. Spy noted that he was as ungrateful as he was dirty and carried on.

"I will keep zat to myself. Thank you for the information, Sniper."

The Sniper scoffed, turning and walking away. The Spy watched the scrawny male lug away his kukri, the oversized knife Spy had had thrust into him a copious amount of times. Spy believed Sniper would be better off bludgeoning someone than attempting to hack into them with such a weapon, but shrugged off his comments. Spy rubbed his arms, then headed the way in which Sniper came and went.

The inner BLU base was as calming as the blue exterior. The Demoman, reduced to a blubbering mess lounging on the armchair, uplifted their spirits with his nonsensical chatter. He and Soldier, as robust and loud as he was, got along well. The two chattered away, their conversation incomprehensible. It was fine, since both spoke volumes with their weapons anyway.

Scout was quietly sitting off to the side, blatantly reading a porn magazine that the Pyro didn't seem very fond of. He made no attempt to hide it, understandably so in a base filled with males. So when the Pyro walked over and dropped a lit match onto the page of blonde women, the Scout's bewildered reaction was quickly quelled by the mumblings of the Pyro and a light tilt of the head. He went back to reading, only to notice that the book was quickly engulfed in fire. Scout was quick to curse, throwing the book off to the side. Pyro had walked away in-between his actions, humming a light tune. His mood dampened by the now burnt erotica, Scout followed along like a puppy being disciplined.

Sniper kept to himself, not often seen within the lobby. If he was, he simply was reading the newspaper or drinking his morning coffee. He was less sociable than the others by far. He had the misfortune of being here this evening however, having the Scout's flaming porno fly at him at an alarming rate. When it landed on his lap and the Sniper yelled in agony from the burns, his immediate reaction was to- also -hurl the burning mess away. Engineer, on the other hand, caught it with his gloved hand and shook his head. He walked off with the magazine, presumably to throw it away, but one couldn't ask the Engineer. He was a rather strange but intelligent man, also a recluse, who focused on robotics more than biology. In this light, no one bothered to ask how he could hold a flaming magazine, it was rumored that there was no real 'hand' underneath the gloves...

Chances are, he was actually going to throw it away. There was nothing robotic about the women in the reading, and he was only interested in prosthetics when it came to humans.

The Medic, unlike the most others, was rather sweet to his teammates. However, it came in increments and usually after nights with the Heavy. Otherwise, he was no different. The team attempted to get on his good side on these days, but the Heavy was even rather protective on and off the battlefield. It wasn't hidden that the two were lovers, so giving the Heavy any reason to believe that you were attempting to get his doctor in bed was essentially a death wish.

And then when the Medic had to heal the injured teammate, they could see the Heavy looming about, ensuring that no moves were made while they were writhing in pain. It was uncomfortable to say the least; the general consensus was that the Medic was better off left to his own devices when the Heavy was prowling. This wasn't to say that the Medic's friendly demeanor spoke volumes about his behavior on the battlefield. The team would've seen the Medic in an entirely different light had they saw his skills as a battle medic first. His Kritzkrieg was generally only out when for healing briefly. He was not attached to his Heavy's hip for beck and call. The Heavy did, though, stick to his medic when he ran charging out, using his knowledge to either end the lives of the RED team swiftly or as slowly as he could possibly make it. Using the uber-saw, he built ubers in this way, using them on his heavy to wreak havoc with criticals dreadfully often. The German man's eyes gleamed when he was given the opportunity to mess with the organs of the fallen REDs. He preferred the Heavy's killings as they were usually left in one piece, over the Soldier and Demoman's. The Sniper's kills generally had no heads, and the Spy's were in perfect condition. The Heavy is calm most of the time. It was only when it comes to his Medic that he can be rather... brutal.

The Spy was secretive, as they all were. He remained locked in his room more often than not, leaving an air of mystery that wasn't helped by the balaclava he donned every day. The Spy threw himself back on the bed, turning his head to glance at the clock. It was almost nine and everyone had already eaten. He ate on his lonesome, preferring to take off the mask to eat. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him. It only lasted mere minutes before he heard a knock on the door."Yes?""Hey! That guy down there? He's been waitin' for ya! You gon' go see him or somethin'? He doesn't look like he'll last much longer if ya keep 'im waitin!"

The voice's obnoxious accent, Bostonian, came clearly through the wooden door.

"I will see him... in a bit," the Spy said dismissively. He put on his casual wear and sighed. Glancing in the mirror, the Spy's green eyes were unusual to the blue on his predecessors. His jet black hair was also a differentiation to the norm. He brushed a hand through his hair, regretting the mask entirely as his hair was forced down 75% of the time here. It paid well, at least, to keep his secrets locked away. Covering his mouth during a brief yawn, he felt the bed practically calling him back to lay down. He hesitated to even bother putting back on the mask, knowing fully well he was too tired to care and, where he was going, there was no threat to him. With this in mind, he activated the Cloak and Dagger and headed down to the Intel room.

The room was bleak, with nothing but multiple corridors lining its halls. The Spy took the nearest one, since all of them led to the same red suitcase simply sitting on a desk. He pushed the intel to the side and sat in the chair that was simply there for aesthetics. He turned the chair to the front, folding his arms on the desk.

He gave a small, thin smile to the man placed in front of the desk, bound by his arms to a cold metal chair.

The man's head was hung down, his mask slanted and only partially on his head. There was no air of mystery; the BLU team stripped this Spy of everything that was dear to him. Essentially, they killed him. He was never once touched in a harming matter, just toyed with, touched with the gentle Medic's precision until they slowly lifted his mask. Until that point, the RED Spy was being prodded for answers and he refused to answer them. Loyal to a fault, they removed his mask and the air of courage and mystique he had prior vaporized into nothing but a mist of sweat, tears and blood.

"You haven't been harmed, have you, mon cher?"

The man made a guttural groan. He did not look up at the BLU Spy, he did not remove his lopsided mask, his body weakened from the psychological torture.

"Not in the physical sense. I will take zat silence as a yes."

The RED Spy averted his eyes to the left while he left a hand on his cheek. The other man, however, did nothing but follow the Spy's subtle movements.

"I will be borrowing your clothing. I wish to... pardon the 'joke', spy on your teammates' actions. You can easily just hand zem over to me, or we could discuss other methods of giving zem to me..."

The RED Spy was reluctant. This was to be expected- the BLU Spy was new and rather young, as the original one had been killed off hours. The murderer was never revealed and the BLU team took a rather brutal beating the next day, as it had taken time to find a replacement. Upon hearing this, the new recruit figured he wouldn't mind playing dirty either, though he wouldn't be so obvious about his mischief as the RED team was.

"And if I was to say no?"

"Zen we have a problem."

The BLU Spy gave a narrow smirk with a nasty intent, smoothly unveiling his choice weapon: Your Eternal Reward. "But zat is okay, I have a solution."


	2. Prosthetics

**AN:** _chapters are rather short. but there will probably be a lot of them. they also get bigger depending on what exactly is happening._

The Medic let out an abrupt and rather aggravated sigh. He tapped his fingers on his office desk, looking away from the infirmary bed. "Are you proud of yourself, Herr Engineer?"

"Yep."

"And why?"

"Because I was one step closer t'getting a new leg."

"Did you thank Herr Scout for beating you unconscious during the process of your... reassembly of limbs?"

"Nope, I could've done without tha' whinin'. It woulda been fine if he'da let me finish."

"If zat had happened, do you think zat it would've went well for you? Such a thing takes adjusting to, and we do not haff another Engineer to help us on ze battlefield, and without defenses-"

"Demoman works wonders-"

"_Demoman never defends_. Of all the people, you should know that. He's nothing but ein drunken _schweinehund_, do you give him so much credit zat you think he and Soldier are not running in hand and hand blowing the BLU base to bits? He does not know that he is a part of the defensive class!"

"Says the Medic who runs out with his saw rather than his medigun-"

Outside, where the Heavy was told to remain, a mutter of agreement had been made.

"Now you listen here... What I do has nothing to do with vat you were doing- medicine has proceeded further than you wrapping a limb tightly enough for it to go purple and cut it off with... with a saw that _isn't even yours_!"

"I was just borrowin' it, doc."

"That is not ze point! Regardless of that, I do not want you to insult my intelligence using such archaic methods-"

"Are you saying I should come to you?"

"NEIN! I am saying STOP doing it."

The Engineer stared at the Medic with cold, unamused eyes from beneath his goggles. His body turned unnaturally warm, his cheeks a rosy-red and the corners of his lips beginning to shift to an annoyed frown.

"Fine, doc. Whatever y'say."

"And to make it clear, I said '_don't do it again_'."

While the Medic sighed again, the Engineer left the room silently, sulking past the Heavy who nodded in acknowledgement. He headed to his quarters, but not before bumping into the Scout. The Scout smiled widely, proud of what he had done.

"It's good to see you're-"

"I didn't ask for yer help, boy."

The Scout's smile faded quickly and he withdrew his outgoing attitude into a more quiet, hurt one.

"I don't ever want you interrupting m'studies. You and that Medic don't understand how convenient machinery can be. Y'see, robots are perfect. The future. Don't y'get it? If we could be as perfect as they are-"

"We'd be flawed."

The Engineer's goggles showed nothing, but the clenching of his fists and his voice showed volumes of fury.

"What did you say, boy?"

"Robots aren't perfect," The Scout continued with a slight hesitation, "They're always upgradin' em... right? You don't keep your sentry level one forever, right? Engie, I think yer beginnin' to lose sight of reality... If y'find yourself perfect, you aren't gonna upgrade yourself, are ya? You need to focus on y'know... _upgrading_ those robots and stuff! It's not the robot that's perfect... the human who made 'im is! And you don't need to change, Engie."

The Engineer muttered something along the lines of 'stupid kid' and walked away. The Scout looked down at his feet, then walked away without the usual spring in his step. He glanced out the window, seeing the RED team looking for their Spy once again, the Sniper's dot frantically scanning the BLU end of the bridge as he had every other night since the kidnapping...

Pyro frowned, having watched the transaction. It shook its head disdainfully, patting the Scout's shoulder.


	3. Mischief

The BLU Spy walked with precision around the metal chair. He knelt down, his chin on the older Spy's shoulder.

"We're friends here... I did not come down here bearing a balaclava. I am the only one of the BLU Team to have not seen your face, perhaps it's only fair if I... borrow it. After all, I have graced you with my own face."

"Eet is more of a punishment."

The BLU Spy remained unraveled by his insults. He bit lightly into the man's neck, reveling in the jerking reaction of the knee that the man underwent. He ground his teeth together, slowly undoing the RED Spy's suit. "I'm going to have fun with your body," the BLU Spy murmured. "I've always wanted to do tattoos before I was employed here. Don't move too much, I don't think your wrists and ankles can take it."

The RED Spy hissed in pain, jerking his head to the left to remove the younger male from his neck. The BLU Spy grunted in discomfort, releasing his grip. He moved to the front to continue to undress the bound man regardless.

"You're rather fiesty. It's annoying."

"I am not giving into some young little shit."

"Promising," the Spy smirked.

The malicious grin faded as quickly as it came as the suit's blazer was undone. He would focus on his work right after this, but he wanted to have his own fun, and his wonderful team had left the man physically undamaged, which would be wonderful.

The BLU Spy abruptly stopped, smiling. He began to put back on the man's blazer for him.

"What are you doing?" He glared down the younger Spy's back, wishing he only had some sort of knife...

"I propose a game, in which I disguise myself as you and you as me. I will allow you to run back to your base... provided you catch me."

"Why the disguises, monsieur?"

"Because I am very able to run in and kill your teammates if I disguise as you. My team will, of course, attempt to catch me as well, but you will stop zem by saying that I am your prey, and yours alone. Is that not right? After all, you hate me oh so much. Zis way, you are not ze only one at risk."

The RED Spy's face gave away no emotion, though a twitch of his lip upwards was the beginning of his end, if the BLU Spy's inquisition was accurate.

"Fine," said the RED Spy, "I will play your little game. Unbind me."

The BLU Spy did what he requested, already disguised as the RED Spy.

"What is to stop me from stabbing you right here, right now?"

"I will cry out immediately if I notice foul play... I can remove the disguise fast enough for them to simply gun you down. They only need notice the smoke colors. This is your only opportunity at escape and revenge, is it not?"

"You are a cocky little bastard. I'll gladly accept these terms."

The BLU Spy smiled for what he hoped was not his last time. The RED Spy disguised himself as well, chasing after the former who decided to give himself a head start.


	4. Notre petit Jeu

**AN:** _you won't be confused for long, promise._

"Whoa!" cried the Scout, when the RED Spy ran past him. Immediately, the Pyro rushed after the Spy.

"Stop!" The BLU Spy yelled, and the Pyro skidded to a halt. The BLU Spy kept running while commanding his teammate to cease chase. "I'll get him. I'm tired of zis bastard and his cocky attitude... and getting away from me is the last straw!"

The RED Spy took the longest routes, deciding to escape from the battlements from the lobby. When he made his leap, he headed for the water. The RED Sniper dot rested in front of him, and he paused to see the Sniper, frantically waving. The silent night was pierced by calls of "It's him! Our Spy!"  
The RED Spy's face turned to one of shock, and he gazed behind him. He could see the BLU Spy jumping off the battlements as well. Beads of sweat ran down his balaclava as he continued to run.

_Shit, he's gaining. He may actually kill me._

The RED Spy stopped at the water, turning his back for the last time. Up close, in the moonlight, was the BLU Spy; his grin hungry for the blood and his arm already in the motion for a deathly strike. The RED Spy tried to block the blow with his arm, hoping that losing feeling in his arm was a lot better than losing feeling altogether.

And then nothing.  
No pain, no scream, except for the quick whizzing of a Sniper's bullet, and the penetration of a skull. The explosion of the BLU Spy's head caused for the body to stumble onto the RED Spy. Taken aback, the Spy fell in the water.

Bubbles flushed out of his mouth, and he grabbed the BLU Spy's body, which had turned red. With a smirk, the 'RED' Spy deactivated the disguise and swam into his base's sewer. He carried the body, stripping when he hit land. He put on the dead man's clothing, then waited.

There was no vanishing of the body, simply blood and cold flesh.

"Dreaded woman," the BLU Spy hissed, "You have team killing activated at night, and no respawn. Did they even kill our Spy?"

Without hesitation, the Spy turned to exit his team's sewer and enter the RED's. Wearing the RED Spy's suit and disguising as him, simply to replace the missing balaclava that was covered in blood and brains.

The RED Sniper was the first to greet him in the sewer. It was awkward; the RED Spy had to get used to the color. His hand twitched, eager and aching to take this man's last breath. At the same time, he was the key part to the previous game and the Spy's savior. He would do the honors of taking the Sniper's life last, once he got his information. Rubbing his head, the Spy walked through the sewer and up the stairs where the Sniper stood.

"I can't believe y'got out of there... you were almost killed!"

"Thanks to you, I was not," the Spy gave a weak smile. He had fallen in the water head first and the surface tension gave him a slight migraine, "So I thank you."

_Thank you for killing your love interest._

The Spy held his head on the way up the sewer. The throbbing got stronger with every step, weighing down his legs until he couldn't take any more further steps. He clutched the grip to the right and groaned.

"Monsieur Sniper, I don't think I can go very far."

"Is that so? I can lift ya, if necessary..."

All the Spy knew was that his world was quickly fading and tilting, and the sharp pain he had experienced when the world halted was nothing like before.


	5. Reborn

**AN:** _and suddenly, a lot of words._

"I've seen some Demomen with peg legs... You've no problem with that, right?"

"Herr Engineer, this conversation was over last night, we haff more troubling matters to attend to than making you some sort of... of... Frankenstein special!' The Medic snarled, banging a fist on the intel desk. He turned his attention to the other seven men, standing solemnly off to the side. They had requested a cease fire for two days, as the death of their first BLU Spy had resulted in a painful beating the next day.

"The kid was too cocky," muttered the soldier.

"Cocky, but intelligent and brave," the Scout sighed. The Spy never had a problem with him unlike the Engineer who he glanced at and who had no words. "Nothin' wrong wit' being a little arrogant."

"Y'sure 'bout that, Scout?"

Scout disregarded the Engineer's subtle jab. Pyro rubbed his shoulder, proud of the Scout's ability to hold in his temper towards the older man.

Heavy bore a frown, "Leetle Spy is dead... when are we to mourn?"

Soldier brought up his voice, "We are spending the day mourning! A cocky soldier, but still one of ours!"

Medic nodded. Sniper kept his opinion to himself, but all the while he did want to tell the RED Sniper that was a rather lame shot and that he could do better.

Demoman thrust his bottle into the air, though empty, with a grin. "A toast, to the BLU Spy!"

"Here here."

Engineer shrugged. "I'm not thirsty."

"Yer human, Engie. Not robotic. Y'gotta drink and eat."

"Well, not now, Scooter."

Scout gritted his teeth and was the last to head back up the stairs from the intelligence room, the Engineer taking it upon himself to go first. He smiled at the Heavy, who returned the smile. The gears in the Scout's head were moving; he knew a way to prove to the Engineer that humans could best robots.

* * *

Spy's eyes fluttered as he woke up in the RED Medic's infirmary. His heart raced when he saw the color, expecting to be a part of a prisoner vivisection, until he realized his organs were not visible. He calmed down upon noticing he was being treated for the wound on his head and seeing he was wearing red. There was no one in the infirmary but him, and from the mirror he could see the sun sitting in the sky, hidden beneath clouds. He assumed everyone was out fighting and closed his eyes.

When he was woken up shortly after, he found out that BLU had ordered a cease fire for a mourning and seeking of a replacement. The Spy understood the mourning. Deep down, he hoped it came before the replacement, as a part of him really did want to be back home with the BLU team. He opened his eyes at last to find his informant was the Sniper. A small smile crept across his lips. The Sniper he had toyed with for months, disguising as the RED Spy and never backstabbing him. Just watching him until he was found, or until the Sniper moved positions for a better shot. The Spy decided that he would leave the Sniper for last, wishing to savor the look in his eyes as blood pumped out of the gash he'd slowly cut on his throat, leaving a glistening red smile on the edge of his lips...

"Mate? Y'okay?"

The Spy blinked out of his fantasies.

"_D'accord_."

"That's... good, mate. Real good. We've been lookin' for you for the longest while, didn't give up..." He rubbed his arm, a nervous habit. The Spy noticed the bags under his eyes, a feature he had never seen during his prowling in the RED base, though he remained out of its perimeters once the RED Spy was secured.

"_Merci beaucoup_," the Spy breathed, a dragged out sigh. He spoke his native language, finding it relaxing in the enemy base. He closed his eyes again, drifting away. Later, he figured he would go to the BLU base to assure them of his existence. He was also rather paranoid that they would attempt to kill him. He laid there, fighting with himself, deciding which would be best: allowing them to replace him or risking informing them. Either way, they would have to replace him to put on a facade, but he did not want to be left in limbo if his plan did not work to perfection. The Administrator would not allow two BLU Spies. He did not want to fight for his position, but ultimately, how would he rid himself of the replacement when he was all done? The Spy found himself at a loss, now unsure how he was to get out of the situation he thrust himself into.

He was startled when the Sniper, who had found a chair to sit in and watch him, began to speak.

"What did they do to you there?"

The Spy hesitated before he spoke. "They... didn't hurt me, not physically. They cut me with words, and my wounds were antagonized by the taunting of them removing my mask." He tilted his head away from the Sniper's direction. "I woke up with a mask on. Who...?"

"I did," the Sniper spoke quickly. "I got... uh... one of your extra ones." He sounded less eager to explain.

"Thank you regardless." The Spy murmured. You stared death in the face and lived, he thought. I'll definitely be fixing that soon. "So, you saw my face."

Silence permeated the air. The Spy swore he heard the Sniper's gulp.

"Yeah."

My disguise must've stopped abruptly. In that case, he should know... what I am. Why doesn't he? "Do the others-"

"No," The Sniper burst out immediately, "When y'passed out, I ran upstairs and got yer mask first."

I guess it chose the opportune time of breaking when he was gone. The Spy turned his head towards the Sniper, showing nothing but distance in his eyes from the man who seemed to be infatuated with him.

Not me, he thought. _The RED Spy._

The Sniper's mouth formed an o, words wishing they could escape his throat. They remained lodged as he closed his mouth and stood.

"Glad you're okay, mate."

Before the Spy could speak, he left, leaving the Spy's mouth wide open with words he didn't think he had anyway.

The sun was resting itself on the horizon. The Spy had been told to remain in the infirmary for the ceasefire. He took this opportunity to skim the office, tampering with the window so that he could leave for a couple minutes to get into the BLU base and explain the situation. He would not stay long, just enough to talk to his teammates. He glanced through the syringes, all organized and neatly tucked away in individual, labeled drawers. Posters hung on the wall and the ground spotless, the aseptic room was a lot more comfortable than at home, despite the red coloring. The Medic at home was somewhat neat, however the room smelled of tissue that had been preserved incorrectly. The Spy closed his eyes and could imagine a doctor, still German in nature, but perhaps older and more reserved than his own BLU doctor, who hasn't been following up on his job as much as he could have been. He wondered if their medic actually healed, then rubbed his head injury. It was a small fix. On the table, he could see pills with a note labeled in delicate handwriting.

_'These are for you, Spy,'_ it read. _'Welcome back to the base. We've been worried sick for you. This is for both the headache and the injury you gave yourself on the fall. Sniper told me what happened. He's been worried for you most of all. I'd get both things checked out, though I took it upon myself to look into the former for you.'_

The Spy rolled his eyes. _Whatever friendship the RED Spy had with the Sniper will have to die now_, he thought. _Torture changes people, I will use this as an excuse._ The Spy picked up the pills again, coming to the conclusion that the medi-gun was out of order. Or did this Medic prefer normal methods for 'boo-boos' like his own?

Spy picked up a glass with hesitance and filled it with tap water. He dropped one of the pills in the water, which turned a wispy hue of red, as if he had placed drops of dye inside. Skeptical, he gulped down the glass of water with the pill. Almost immediately, a wave of cool relaxation flushed him, his body soothed and his forehead's throbbing decreasing gradually. Spy was wide-eyed. He... created some sort of medi-gun... pills? Did he use these on the battlefield? The Spy struggled to remember if this Medic was attached to his Heavy unlike his own. Or were they a simple quick fix for lingering pain? Either way... our Medic has nothing like this. Spy glanced out the window, to the sky, again. The sun wasn't waiting for him to make up his mind.

Spy set the glass down and headed towards the door, locking it from the inside. He glanced around the room to ensure that no cameras could see him, then opened the window and headed out, cloaked. The battlefield was barren; it was strange to walk the bridge without the fear of being shot while cloaking, or having the misfortune of bumping into another Spy and having to acknowledge that he was probably disguised as you, unable to chase him into your own base as he goes to wreak havoc because you were essentially doing the same.

The Spy headed around to the BLU Medic's infirmary, opening the unarmed window with relative ease, whereas the RED Medic's window took time. Once he was in and ensured that no one noticed the break in, he uncloaked and headed out the door rather nonchalantly. He would hope his team would be dumbfounded that the 'RED Spy' would willingly break into his captors' base once again. He headed to the lobby, thinking of what to say.

The lobby, though practical, was barren of decorations. A couple sofas, tables, and bookshelves were neatly organized about the room. The Spy looked around at the eight men, paying him no mind, as they were preoccupied with... more tedious matters.

The Scout, wound up with pent up energy and ambition, grinned wildly at the center table where the Engineer and Heavy sat, both of their arms up and their elbows pressed against the wood. The Demoman sat on the edge of the Soldier's armchair, where his arm was to rest, drinking as he eyed the two men as well. Soldier had suggested pooling up bets, and his helmet was filled to the brim on the ground with spare change that the BLUs happen to have on hand. His eyes stared with an eagle's determination at the table.

The Medic patted his Heavy's shoulder. "Win, or you're sleeping by yourself tonight."

Heavy had no clue if he really meant it.

Pyro and Sniper sat together on the sofa, casually watching the two as well. Both of them had glasses of alcohol, though only the Sniper's looked to be as if it was actually being used. The Pyro remained an enigma.

The Spy, the last of the pieces and currently the most unfitting, leaned against the corridor's wall, watching the ordeal before he would speak.

"Alright, the rules are simple: It's a wrestlin' match. May the strongest man win! Everything goes. No activating the gunslinger, though. We ain't trying to remove the Heavy's hand. We're goin' to three, here!"

The Engineer's cold smile remained on his face, while the Heavy had a neutral, blank expression.

The Scout raised a fist in the air, "... and GO!"

Attention focused on the table now more than ever when the game started, the Heavy leaning in to get a good grip on the Engineer's gloved hand. The Engineer kept his distance, sure his hand would not be moved. The two men felt the restriction of each other's grasp, strength refusing for either hand to hit the table. After a minute, the Heavy's hand slammed down on the back side of his hand. His neutral face was altered with a slight narrowing of the eyes, whereas the Engineer's smile didn't fade.

He adjusted his goggles, nodding. "It's okay, big guy. Round two."

The Sniper raised an eyebrow, wondering why the Engineer was so cocky about one win of three. Scout, on the other hand, pursed his lips and nodded. Medic's arms were folded and he remained on the sidelines. Soldier and Demoman nodded in appreciation of the Engineer's victory. The Soldier muttered something about Americans being the strongest and the Demoman simply rolled his eye.

"Go!"

Without hesitation, the Heavy flexed his wrist and slammed the Engineer's hand down. The silence after the abrupt thud of the metal hand hitting the table hung in the air like a putrid stench that no fragrance would remove. The Engineer's face was quickly wiped of his arrogant grin, and the Heavy's face remained with a hint of disdain and anger. He gave a dark sneer in return of the Engineer's previous one. Spy's face showed surprise; had Heavy been holding back, and why? Medic nodded approval, unlike the Soldier who couldn't believe what happened.

Demoman simply drank to the occasion. He didn't need real reason. Sniper followed his lead. The corner of the Scout's mouth lifted, and his eyebrows furrowed in the pleasure.  
Engineer scowled, flexing his arm and wrist before setting his elbow down on the table. He removed the goggles.

Heavy did the same, narrowing his eyes and exercising his fingers, a mundane action.

All eyes were on them.

"Go!"

The men quickly grasped onto one another's hands, gripping with an intent to kill. Heavy's hand ached from the gloved metal hand's grip. Engineer shown concentration, but no pain. To best that, Heavy sucked in the agony as well as he possibly could and continued to push. Engineer felt his elbow slipping. Gritting his teeth, he grunted and forced his body weight forward. Heavy, noticing the struggle, put on more pressure and pushed toward until their noses were practically touching. Both could notice from this angle the color that the other had been turning: red.

Heavy grimaced as he forced his weight and strength onto that one hand. The Engineer wished he could wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead, but he would only attract more from the Heavy's forehead. They were head to head, literally.

So when the table finally snapped from pressure and the slamming of someone's hand, seven faces were aghast to see the victor.

Heavy, his other hand along with his knees on the ground to keep his balance from the fall.

Engineer, wide-eyed in shock.

Heavy, finally grasping what had happened, grinning wildly.

In his wrestling hand was the Gunslinger, detached from the Engineer. Ultimately, it was on its back, as if the table was never there to begin with. Scout's face lit up with a devious grin.

"The Heavy is the victor!"

With the exception of the declaration, the room was dead silent.

"YES!"

The eight faces turned to the Heavy, who had picked himself off the floor. He flung himself to the Medic, grabbing him by the waist. Medic gasped, fussing.

"Vat are you doing-"

"You are mine to fuck! You said so, da!"

"I... I didn't mean NOW, dummkopf! Nein! NOT NOW!"

The Heavy, despite the Medic's protests, walked into his room triumphantly.

The room remained silent. That's when the other three pairs of eyes, and one singular, turned to the Spy simply standing off to the side. When he realized they were staring, he could feel himself warming up.

"...I... I'm alive," The Spy began, "I am not the RED Spy. Allow me to explain. I have videos, cameras of what happened in the intel room..."

Engineer picked up his hand, grunting. He turned on a heel and went to his room.

"Well ah don't care who you are. I got to fix my hand."

Scout's leer faded. He followed the Engineer.

The Spy, Demoman, Soldier, Sniper, and Pyro remained within the lobby. The silence stayed.

"... Well, Gentlemen, if you will follow me down to the intel room..."

Normally, Soldier would have protested. He was too mellow, too bewildered, and just not feeling it. His country essentially lost an arm wrestling match to a Russian. Demoman was too drunk. Sniper and Pyro simply nodded.

Quietly, the five headed down to the Intel room.


	6. Made of Metal

The Engineer's room was as cold and dark as the steel he worked with.

The Scout felt uneasy as he walked in, taking slow steps to give himself time to think about what he would say. He didn't spot the older Southern man anywhere. Contemplating leaving, he turned back to the door. Unfortunately, the Engineer was in the process of locking it from the inside, glancing at the Scout with his goggles on.

Scout felt his lung lodge into his throat, or something equally as large.

"H... hey. I... take it y'didn't enjoy the game as much as I had hoped."

Silence. The Scout's nervous habit chose then to shine.

"I... I just..." He babbled. "Look, Engie... I just... I really... care aboutcha, you know!" His voice cracked, a shame for a boy... a growing man. "I don't want y'to lose yerself to machinery, that's all. You hardly eat sometimes. Pyro's cookin' sure ain't the problem he... she... it's really good at cooking. I help 'im sometimes, too, 'cause I used to cook for my brothers and all..."

Though the Scout couldn't see the Engineer as clearly in the room, he swore the man was as still as a rock.

"Look, Engie... y'know you lost that fight. The one of humans versus machinery. You are going... too far... Medic even agrees, and the guy's insane! You are... worrying me. It's not a... a..." The Scout fussed to find the words. He didn't want to look childish with his diction, but his anxiety was getting the best of him. "It's not... like... you know... I'm not in love with you or anything."

This got the Engineer's eyebrow to raise, the goggles adjusted ever so slightly down by the man to show it as well.

"No! I mean... well... I love ya, Engie. Not in... the sexual sense! But like... a father, you know? I didn't have one and all... Ma raised us as both the mom and dad... She's that good..." He gave a small smile. "I just don't want to see ya... go," he mumbled.  
Engineer's hand covered his face, dragging until he focused again on the Scout.

"I don't need some child w'out peach fuzz at the very least to tell me that I'm losing it. Ah know damn well ah am," Engineer's dialect began to come out with the small fury in his voice. "But the thing is, kid, ah don't care. I'm getting close to building a robot, it ain't me like I wanted it t'be, but it's still a robot. I'm gonna annihilate the RED Team. I'm doin' this fer my team."

"What if you're too far gone before you finish?"

"I won't be."

"You can never KNOW, Engie...!"

"Nor can you, kid."

"Stop being so... fucking... stubborn!"

"Kid, you're the one..." Engineer took a few steps closer, until he was in front of the Scout with his repaired Gunslinger, putting a finger to his face. "Who decided to butt in. Ain't none of the other teammates been buggin' me about this. The Medic doesn't count."

"Because they are afraid to! I ain't... I am worried about you, jackass!"

"I don't need some twelve year old on adrenaline botherin' me."

"Engie! Quit this shit-"

"No. YOU git your facts straight! I don't WANT or NEED your damn help."

"Yea, you DO! You NEED my help! Y'need a friend to snap you out of your stupor-"

The Scout was quickly out of breath. He clutched his stomach, where the Gunslinger had been previously. He was hunched over, unprepared for the second hit which sent him hurtling on the ground. Groaning, he looked up at the Engineer with shock and confusion.

"Kid, you'll be thanking me for this later."

The Scout laid his throbbing head down, turning to the side to not see the monster that the Engineer had become. He was staring underneath the bed, where he swore he saw a striped, blue suit. He tried to question it, but only received a kick in the spine.

"Why..." The Scout whimpered. "Why would I thank you for hurting me...?"

The Engineer removed his goggles. He pursed his lips, beginning to now realize that he may have been too harsh on the kid.

"You... I've done nothing t'you but try to help you. And you're treating me like the enemy."

"You are my enemy."

The Scout's eyes widened, then shut quickly. In that brief moment, he swore he saw... a hand under the bed. A human one. It couldn't have been the Engineer's. It came out of the suit. The Scout reached out his hand.

"Yer makin' me regret doing this. Yer making me want to drop my research. You're a burden to me. I can't stop this because some... shitty kid... is getting too... close to me. You're breaking me. I have to fix myself. Or at least, get rid of the problem."

Engineer paused. He noticed that the Scout was no longer arguing and he stepped back. "What are you doing?"

The Scout weakly opened his eyes to look at what he had retrieved from under the bed. Photos. It looked like BLU Intelligence, it had been in the same suitcase container, but it had the Engineer and the BLU Spy.

But the Spy looked different. Older.

"What... what's this?"

The Engineer sighed. He pulled on the metallic string of his Gunslinger.

The Scout's eyes widened one more time as he heard the winding of metal, the whirring of the hand coming closer to his head.


	7. Unrequited Betrayal

The five men downstairs sat down together, watching the security cameras that hadn't been touched since the start of the BLU Team. They took time to delete the recordings of a calmer Engineer's, still the current one's, sentry destroying the occasional RED Scout, or other mundane things, like a naive RED Spy walking around the sentry and picking up the intel, only to be shot. Occasionally, one was smart enough to disguise and walk up to it. However, the intelligence was counteracted with the fact that they attempted to stab the sentry. Some of the funnier videos were saved.

They watched the game's beginning, the deal that could've potentially ended badly, and thankfully did not. They stared in silence, with the exception of the video talking. When it was over, the Spy turned to the men.

"It is with this that I say that I have successfully gotten into the base, and will be heading back to continue to destroy them from the inside. However, I cannot kill any of them, or my cover will be blown. I suggest a temporary replacement. One who I can pass info to, for you."

"What do we do with the replacement when it's all over?"

"Of course, he can be sent back or what have you. This is my position."

"We can tell the others for you. You should go."

"I will, believe me."

"Don't getchur self killed. I ain't comin' to your rescue."

The Spy rolled his eyes. "Monsieur Sniper, you hardly leave the battlements, don't worry, I never expected to see your face within the base."

Pyro tapped Spy's shoulder. He turned to see the thing raising a hand and holding it in the air. With a small, arrogant smirk, the Spy high-fived him like he had been expecting. The Pyro's giggle caused him to soften a bit, the smirk calming down to a caring smile. Spy got out of his chair.

"I bid you gentlemen adieu," he started, heading up the stairs. The other men followed, them taking their separate ways once the Spy reached the lobby and headed outside the doors. The Sun that had graced his presence earlier on was now sinking into the horizon. The Spy was hoping the lock remained. He cloaked regardless.

Once he got to the window, opening it back with relative ease. Dazed, he opened the lock on the door. He slunk back to the infirmary bed, throwing himself into the mattress. Now everything will go according to plan, he thought. He glanced over to the Medi-pills. I might have to take another one later.

Eventually, the Spy drifted further away from consciousness. He was far gone in minutes.

This didn't stop the door from creaking open and the long-legged Australian from walking in as soon as the door could be opened. The Sniper assumed the Medic locked the door to give the sleeping Spy peace. He had at first thought the Spy was much younger. _The man couldn't be more than thirty-two_, he thought. _This is... strange. Never thought I'd like a guy, let alone a young one..._

The Sniper towered over the sleeping Frenchman. He knew nothing about the Spy except for his face, a secret that wasn't even intended for him to find out. As horrible as he should have felt for seeing it without permission, he did not. The Sniper sat in his chair again, watching. He removed his hat and put it in his lap.

"I almost lost you," he muttered to himself, quietly so that the sleeping man would not wake.

"I didn't see when you went. You were on the battlements with me, talking. You said you don't remember ever staying with me long. That ya were always on the field. But I feel like y'were just messin' with me."

He closed his eyes, gripping onto his hat tightly.

"So when you were off and gone, I was worried. Then a day passed and you weren't at the base. We figured you were fine, just gone. I was still worried... I found myself attached t'ya. No one else stays with the Sniper. They're either defending or attacking. RED Team seems to have a lot more heart than BLU. When that BLU Spy died... Th'first, not the second one, Everyone but the Engineer seemed sad. Their Engineer is strange. but he's been 'ere longer than the rest of us."

The Sniper's back hunched over as he rested his head on his knee.

"Maybe you don't feel the same. That's fine, too. I'm not even supposed ta feel this way. I'm not... well. I guess I am a pooftah. Never mentioned it to mum and dad, though," Sniper averted his eyes. "They'd have me go straight to a doctor. They'd never have it in their house. So I left."

Sniper sighed, resting a hand on his cheek.

"Why am I tellin' you this when you're not even awake? Guess I really am lonely. Just want... what I can't have."

Silence, then the Sniper smiled for the first time in the longest while.  
He got up and left the infirmary without another word.

* * *

The Scout's eyes relaxed when he realized his insides were still inside. He took the chance to peek at the Engineer, who had quit reaching for his skull. The older man's arm stopped its spinning, the whirring of metal halting to a slow and easy stop. They made eye contact, and the Scout swore that he saw a lust for blood in the usually reserved man's eyes. There was no exchange of words; the Scout meekly attempted to ask what was he doing, but before he could get halfway through the question, the cold grip of death coiled itself around his neck. It had not been entirely avoided.

Scout's eyes rolled up, his mouth agape and gasping lightly for air while he attempted to focus on the Engineer, who brought him closer to being face to face. In this light, being held against his own will, the Engineer did not smile. He didn't leer or show any sort of emotion: The Scout swore he had already made himself part machine.

"Y'aint gonna remember this, Scout. I ain't gonna let you. So don't worry yer pretty head over it. If it makes y'feel better, ah may try to be better t'you, 'cause it seems y'aren't as annoyin' as y'let on, libido and intelligence and whatnot. Y'hearin' me, boy?"

The Scout gave a weak nod, his windpipes strangled. The Engineer loosened the grip briefly for the Scout to flounder about and gasp for his next, and perhaps last, breath.

"I won't kill ya either. No respawn, and Team killing. But I'm gonna experiment on ya. You won't remember a thing, promise. It's a small 'un, too. So just be cooperative."

Scout took what energy he had to shake his head, searching the Engineer's eyes again.  
He whimpered as the Engineer laughed, followed by a tightened grip on his throat via the Gunslinger.

"You thought y'had a choice? That's funny."

"I... I don't want... to be... a part of your... monstrosities."

"Yer chokin' boy. Maybe if yah talked less, you wouldn't have this problem. Don't worry your head off. I'll take good care of you."

The Scout had a scream bubble up to his throat, but it remained as his cheeks turned a shade of blue from the asphyxiation. His pleas felt like air inside his throat, gathering like an over pressurized balloon with a strong desire to burst.

"I'm gonna tinker with the Respawn tomorrow to see if I can mess with yer memory. If not, good ol' Amnesia. You'll be out fer a while, but we are on Ceasefire."

Beads of drool found themselves seeping through the Scout's mouth. Disgusted, the Engineer dragged the young boy to his closet. "You're barely conscious now, are ya?" Silence. "Good." He shoved the boy into the cramped enclosure. He closed the door and turned away heading to his own bed. The Engineer flung himself onto the mattress, removed his goggles and placed his glove back on his hand. He laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, boy."

It took a few minutes for him to sleep, staring at his hand the entire duration of his pitiful reality.


	8. Defect

The sun peeked up from the horizon and the Teufort map was barren as usual, the tumbleweeds roaming the lands rather than the seventeen mercenaries. The second day of Ceasefire had everyone wound up with excess energy. Spy was no longer confined to the infirmary bed, but was told to remain on the pills in case of a concussion. He used this time to quickly grab the RED Spy's Respawn card. He felt childish, being babied by this enemy Medic, but the feeling of being cared for was endearing. The Spy felt better for killing the RED one. Rather, letting one of his teammates do the dirty work for him.

The Spy headed down to the intelligence room, remaining cloaked. He walked quietly, his footsteps leaving nothing but soft clacking sounds down the stairs. In his hand, he held two cards with identification on them, one belonging to him and his deceased counterpart. Once he reached the upper layer of the Intel room, where the Intel desk remained, he felt along the walls. With a gasp of excitement that he could not contain, he pressed the most miniscule button, missed within the millions of others.

The time that it took for secret stairway to show itself, the Spy found himself on edge. The color red had him, essentially, internally distraught. It surrounded him, crushed him, when he knew he belonged to the BLUs. Is this the feeling of being separated from the people you called your family, he thought, that Spy... I put him out of his misery ahead of time. The Sniper did a wonderful job of shooting his head clean off. I'm sure he had no time to feel his head combust into a terrifying work of art. Spy, collecting his thoughts and quickly pushing them into the dark corner of his mind, quickly stepped into the staircase. The door closed as quietly as it opened behind him.

He walked alone.

Just like he did the first time he found himself stumbling into this room. However, he was not on the RED side of it. He fumbled with the cards in his hand, hoping that the system worked the same when he had overheard the Engineer's conversation with the Administrator. The corridor was a long and dull one, with no colors in sight. The land down here was no one's, no one had any need. It simply belonged to his employers, whereas the RED and BLU coloring all over the bases symbolized it to be one of his own.

Well. At least, they liked to think of it that way.

The Spy stopped at the oversized door. It looked like one of his Respawn rooms. This one, likewise, had no color, but a small card slot. He pulled the deceased Spy's card and used it. In the center top of the door, a small light blinked red. The room opened to the BLU intruder. The room was outlined in RED, unlike the room that held the BLU Respawn Data. Fortunately, the machinery was simple enough to understand, for what he wished to do.

He moved over to the side, where a monitor remained. Oversized like the door, it featured recordings of the RED Team's base. The Spy was thankful he closed through most of his travels, but quickly erased the recording of the door opening on its own. He also shut the camera off in general that watched that aspect of the Intel room, so that no one else would notice his unusual intrusion. He turned away from the monitor and went to its adjacent corner, where the Respawn information remained.

Resting on another door was another card key, in which he used the RED Spy's card. A panel slid from the wall, showing a small screen embedded in the wall with the RED Spy's name and information. Curiosity washed over the young BLU Spy, and he began to scan the details that the dead man left, in some sort of homage to the Spy. No Spy wanted to die a secret, or at least, the BLU Spy did not. He wished to be known for his achievements, despite his job stating otherwise.

"Jean-Luc Delaroux," The Spy uttered in a near inaudible voice, "Age thirty-eight, Birthday April 30th. Worked at a..." The Spy sneered. "Whore house? _'e was a porn star?_" He clasped his hand over his mouth, still worried that he would be noticed in a horrible, miraculous will of fate. He continued to read. "Wait," he corrected himself. "It was only... one place. He has so many jobs listed here. Is... is this his entire life history? But I thought..." The Spy closed his eyes. Even Spies were nothing but people to the Administration of RED and BLU, their information laid out for their superiors to see. The mystique that made the job so rewarding was nonexistent, which he understood as they were his employers, but the Spy couldn't help but find it unfair... when he doubts the RED Spy ever gave them this information to begin with.

Though his pure conscious wanted him to revel in the besting of the older man, the Spy shook his head and began to refocus on what he had originally came to do. He pulled his card out of his pocket, pressing one of the buttons on the keyboard beneath the panel labeled "Reformat". The RED Spy's card was quickly shredded on the inside of the machine. On the panel, words reformed to request a new card. The Spy inserted his own. When he was prompted about the color differences, he simply told it to swap them. Slowly, his information replaced the previous Spy's. The Spy huffed with an air of impatience and pushed at buttons on the keyboard. When finished, he retrieved both his card and his new official RED one. He stepped away from the panel, and it quickly closed.

The Spy left the room. He stood outside the door once more, attempting to use the old BLU card to access the BLU portion of the room to no avail. He nodded his head. Welcome to the RED Team. The Frenchman headed up the stairs, only to pause when something metal glinted from the dark floor. The Spy picked up the item, tilting his head upon realizing they belonged to his- the BLU -Scout. Confused, he headed upstairs with them in his pocket.

When he reached his room from scaling the stairs, he was surprised to see the Sniper in casual clothing. The two stared at each other, the Spy with a lack of words and the Sniper with light confusion. The man who could find his voice spoke first.

"Hey there, Spoi... I guess ya noticed there's no one in the base... Demoman took Soldier and Engineer for some drinking. No one knows where the Pyro goes. Medic and Heavy are off sightseein', using the Engineer's technology to leave and return to tha base. Scout's out shopping."

"And you," The Spy questioned, his bored gaze drilling a hole into the Sniper's forehead.

The marksman averted his gaze. "I didn't go anywhere today. Wasn't... interested."

"Is zat so," The Spy raised an eyebrow. "I notice you don't have a room in here. You live in zat van, Bushman?"

Again, no eye contact. "Yeah, I do. All my stuff's in it. Least, no one can go in there and move m'stuff around..."

The two stood in silence for a minute. As the Sniper went to open his mouth, the Spy cut him off.

"Well, stay as you will. I think I'll be using this free day to relax. Preferably, not here."

The Sniper looked to be struggling with himself, his mouth still ajar. "Where are ya goin'?"

"...Out. I wish not to be cooped up within the base. I know Medic allowed me leave from the infirmary but now that no one's around-"

"I can stay with you? Or go with you... Just in case your headache acts up..."

The Spy raised an eyebrow at the offer. The RED Spy and RED Sniper... I don't think they amounted to much of a relationship, He thought, after all, the RED Spy who he talked to so much, yet so little, was really me.

"...Wait for me in your van."

Sniper's facial expression didn't waver. "Alright."

When the Spy walked away, he was sure he heard the Sniper release a huge sigh of relief. All Spy could do is await the day where his knife would cut the Australian's heart out. He still found himself confused as to why he accepted the invitation.


	9. Erased

BLU Scout rested in his room for hours. At first, the team thought he had come down with something. The Medic gave the Scout a brief check up and found nothing physically wrong with him. The young man just didn't wake up. The Engineer found himself working close by the Scout's room, not going in to wake the runner, but making sure that everything was well established. He wanted to be the first that the Scout spoke to, in case the man's memory remained intact.

In the hours of the early morning, the Engineer had lugged the unconscious boy down the stairs, groaning when the body made every thud upon hitting the steps. After a few steps, he threw the Scout over his shoulder and continued his trek down to the blue intelligence room.

Even with the body over his shoulder, the Engineer easily found the button located in the center of the room. He tapped his foot as the secret stairway showed itself, then walked down these as well. The door shut behind him. Soft moans of pain erupted from the Scout's mouth, and the Engineer sighed.

"You woke up earlier than expected, boy."

The Scout's eyes widened when he heard the voice. He began to thrash around to no avail. He threw open his mouth, only to realize a gag that had been placed in his mouth. He relaxed his body immediately, giving in with little struggle. He didn't have the energy to fight nor make plea bargains with his teammate.

"You're not struggling as much as ah had thought you would. Rope does that to a person, huh. Oh yeah... fergot, you didn't eat an' last you were awake, you were bein' choked. Those are some factors too, huh." Engineer snorted, reaching the giant Respawn door and teasing the Scout all the way down. The Scout closed his eyes. He was intrigued by the area, but he felt like shit. It didn't help to be treated the same way.

Engineer scanned his card through the reader, the light on the door turning blue, and walked into the room with the Scout still on his shoulder. The first thing the Texan did was erase the tape of the walk down. Scout reopened his eyes and watched the man work on the computer. His friend. His family.

Bitter, the Scout began to make noises. The Engineer shrugged, turning around to remove the gag in his mouth. "No one can hear ya down here, if it wasn't obvious," he sneered. "Otherwise, takin' off your gag would be putting myself under suspicion, and I don't want to do that now..."

"There's... more wrong with you than I thought."

"You did this to yourself, kid."

"I did this because _I care_," Scout hissed. "I'm sorry fer carin', okay?"

"Ah never asked you to."

"You don't ASK t'be taken care of, Engie! D'ya tell your mom to take care of ya when y'first get out her stomach?"

"You've got too much mouth and too much heart; both are used on the wrong person and the wrong reasons."

Scout sighed. "Fuck you too."

"Now you're usin' your language."

Scout felt a snarl bubble in his throat. He had enough of the Engineer, and some of the Team, when they assumed that he had to use strings of curses to communicate. Sometimes it was just necessary, like when your teammate was insane and everything goes in one ear and out the other.

"You're a cruel son of a bitch, Engineer."

"Oooh, getting frightened now."

Scout tightened his fist, gritting his teeth. He could feel nothing but anger towards the monster in front of him.

"I don't want to forget how much I hate you. How much I want to see y'splattered on the main respawn door!"

"Unfortunate that it doesn't happen often enough, huh?" Engineer rolled his eyes.

"I remember th'clip of ya gettin' shot by your sentry before y'got the Wrangler. I'm sure you felt stupid an' embarrassed. I remember the day you left us for a week, an' we had to get a replacement Engineer," Scout was talking faster now, pouring out his memory. He wanted to hate this man. Scout wanted him to know he had flaws he could not fix. He couldn't think straight. "And when you came back y'wore that damn glove every day an' only that one glove. We asked ya why, and you wouldn't give us a straight answer."

The Engineer found himself paused in front of the Respawn Panel, in the midst of modifying the Scout's information. "What are you goin' on about, boy..."

"That same day, I ran into a Spy disguised as you, an' he had me pinned against th'wall. He was toyin' with me. The RED Spy... ain't the one that got killed recently, but th'one that was pretty fruity. He kept touchin' me, lickin' my wounds and I couldn't fight back at all, too tired, too weak, too devastated tha' we had lost the intel 'cause of my death. And I was sick, 'cause he remained disguised as y'the entire time."

Engineer stopped typing altogether, frozen.

"He said he had a fetish for th'weak. That I was the weakest link on the team and that I was a delicious treat for 'im. And all I heard was the windin' up of a drill and suddenly blood splattered all ov'r my face and body. I was terrified, the image of ya just fallin' on top of me, dead. And then he turned back into a Spy. And you were behind 'im, covered in blood, looking so angry 'cause that same Spy zapped your sentry. You asked if I was okay and I couldn't respond, lookin' at your hand. You shoved your hand into th' Spy and his organs like, went flyin'!"

Engineer turned to the side, hiding the smallest smile on his face. He looked at his hand, flexing his fingers and nodding. Scout tried to calm his speech down.

"S'when you explained that y'replaced your hand. And I was scared for a bit, wondering how it happened... but you said it was willingly. And then the team came rushing to us 'cause they heard the sound, and they caught us like that. I was on your shoulder, y'were gettin me to the Respawn room..." Scout chuckled. "I missed that. I miss... _you_. Before y'changed, you weren't this cold... not to your team... maybe to the opposite team, but-"

Engineer held up his hand, and the Scout looked hurt that he was interrupted. He kept going, forcing it along.

"I miss when you were... human." The Scout let out a pained sigh.

The two stared at each other quietly for a while. The Engineer broke the silence with the clacking of the Respawn Panel's keyboard.

"I'm still human. I didn't kill you. I'm... just erasing your memory. It won't hurt, I promise. I'm gonna just set this back to modify yer memory to start up what happened two days ago. You scanned your card in two days ago last, so that's where it'll go-"

"I don't want to lose these memories. I _want_ to hate you."

Engineer blinked, taken aback. His typing got faster once he recuperated.

"I want to hate you because you did this to me. You aren't the Engineer I knew back then when I first started on the BLU team. I _despise_ you. I can use big vocabulary too, that isn't just vulgarity. I _loathe_ you, I saw what you have in your closet. Those suits aren't yours. That's the BLU Spy. The Older BLU Spy. Y'had somethin' to do with him, didn't you? What's wit' the robotic head?"

Engineer shrugged. "I don't care what you say or want. I want..."

He paused, confused. The Scout smiled.

"Even robots can desire things."

The Engineer glared. "That's enough of you."

He lifted the Scout up and sat him down in a chair offset from all the technology. He was strapped into the chair, and a small helmet was placed on his head. "The Administrator used this when she wanted ta get rid of the... bad apples on the RED and BLU teams. She'd clean their memory... then kill 'em, so that they never saw it coming. It was used for the mercs who were... too good. But couldn't resist comin' down here when she 'warned' them against it."

"It'll only hurt a little bit," the Engineer continued. "I already selected your old memory, so everything else that day'll appear to have been a dream. That is the wonder of the Conagher technology." He smiled and adjusted his goggles on his face. "Good night, Scout."

The Scout scrunched up his face. "What do you mean, good-"

His eyes widened, his throat releasing a blood curdling scream as electricity surged through his body. As if he had been uber-charged, his eyes illuminated a bright blue, his mouth wide open and his body taking on the blue charged colors as well. He convulsed, hunched over and thrashing about in the chair's restrictions.

It stopped as abruptly as it began.

His skin looked normal. His clothing, unburned from the sudden surge of electricity. The uber-charge had done its job, protecting the person undergoing the treatment, but the Scout looked drained, his eyes vacant and drool running from the edge of his mouth. He remained hunched forward, unmoving. The Engineer straightened out his face and unbound the Scout. He threw the boy over his shoulder, glancing about when he heard something jingle and hit the floor. He started out of the room, heading up the stairway.

The Engineer looked down at the ground the entire way, escalating the stairs with a sense of achievement and shame.

"You'll thank me for this later."


	10. Pinot Noir

**AN: **_getting tired of finding "paste your document" or random document id numbers in my story. please message me if you see it._

* * *

The Spy found himself cruising along in the passenger's seat of the Sniper's camper van. He dare not go into the back, though the Sniper offered for him to lay down at any time. The wind blew in his face and he yearned to remove the mask and let it go through his pressed down and sweaty hair. He, however, refused to let his guard down around the man. Despite the Sniper seeing his face over a fluke, the Spy would not allow him to grace himself again.

"You don't look happy in that mask, nor the suit. It is tha middle of a desert and all."

"I am fine, Sniper."

The Sniper nodded and focused on driving. "I figure we could go out to town, it's not far and its pretty quiet there..."

"Wherever, just not in the base. I am tired of the work for now."

Sniper's words were hesitant, the Spy noticed. Something inside him wanted to throw the Sniper a bone, let him have some sort of fun on the trip. The man essentially cared for the Spy, in some convoluted way. The Spy also granted him nothing but companionship rather than a swift and painful death like how a normal Spy's prey should go. He almost wavered, the heat slowly getting to him and getting underneath his mask.

And then he realized, he didn't care about the Sniper at all.  
Not enough to reveal himself, not enough to open himself. Though the job at hand consisted of mingling with the enemy, he would not put trust in the bumbling bushman. Granted, he would now have to trust these mercenaries to keep him alive since he switched teams. He'd also have to avoid his own team members, as he would not like to have to stab them in the back.

"Spoi?"

The Spy was jerked out of his thoughts. He did not fully turn his head, but he glanced in the Sniper's direction and mumbled to let him know that he was acknowledged.

"We're here," he nodded. "Y'seemed like you were fallin' asleep. If you want to find a place to sleep-"  
Spy raised an eyebrow.

"...Or head back to the base," Sniper quickly added, "I'm okay with drivin' you back."

Spy wordlessly unlatched his seat belt and opened the side door. He stepped outside, releasing a lazy yawn. "We're here," he repeated. "So, I want to stay. Zere is no point in wasting the time taken to get here." He walked ahead of the Sniper, despite not knowing where he was going. Sniper followed the man with his vest removed.

"Y'sure you're not too hot with that damn thing on?"

Spy's eyebrows furrowed. _Why are you suddenly getting pushy?_

"I am sure."

"Spoi," Sniper spoke slowly, as if reprimanding a child who had no clue of what he had done. "We are in a desert in which heat beams down on you ev'ry second of your time bein' here. You have been recently released from the Medic's infirmary fer a concussion and headaches. Heat'll provoke-"

While the Sniper lectured on, the Spy removed his blazer and flung it in the Australian's direction. It hit him dead on, with the Sniper pulling it off his face as a result. The Sniper headed back to the van to put the blazer inside, giving the Spy the perfect time to leave on his own. The Spy slipped his fingers inside his pants, feeling the cool metal of the Blu Scout's dog tags. I'll give him these when we're back on the field, he thought. But for now... it's nice to have a memento of home.

The center of the area was essentially every man's land. The Spy sometimes saw his Soldier drinking with the RED Demoman, much to the chagrin of the BLU one. The next day they would return to blowing each other to bits, in the literal sense. _Friends_, the Spy thought.  
_I don't have, or need, any of those._  
As he said that, his fingers grasped the dog tags.  
_...I don't._

The stores were bleak, nothing but mere show in the ghost town. Unamused by its bland nature, the Spy headed into the bar, where the RED Engineer and Demoman drank together, smiling and laughing. The Spy blinked away his curiosity, never knowing the two classes to get along. Even in their drunken stupor, they happened to notice the younger male watching them.

"...Hey there, Spy! Y'seem a li'l distraught."

Spy scrunched up his face. The Demoman flung himself out on the chair, wrapping an arm around the man. "Y'should come git a nice scrumpy. You'll be as loose as me, lad... haha..."

Spy shook his head, recoiling until the Engineer pushed him forward towards the bartender.

"Don't look so... so... wha's the word..."

Spy groaned. Two drunk men, a bartender milking all he could possibly get from them, and himself. He closed his eyes and hoped that drinking was not always such a priority on RED Team; some days they were amazing at metaphorically grabbing his entire team's ass and grating it on a cheese grater.

"Y... look so... plain. That ain't the word now, son, but... you could be a lot... more..."

"How about I just head off so that I do not ruin your great time..."

"No, no! Ain't anythin' like that. We're glad yer back. Ya gotta celebrate with us! Them BLUs ain't change you that badly huh? Y'weren't friendly then either, butcha sure was up fer a drink or two... Anythin' ya want! On us!"

The Spy pursed his lips. He scanned the selection of liquors and alcohols and found nothing of interest. He gave them a light shrug, speaking his thoughts aloud.

"Spy, yer shure are one fine... lady... Pickin' out only tha finest wines... haha!"

Spy rolled his eyes.

"I won't settle for American dribble. Didn't you guys ask me what I wanted?"

"We did... yea... guess you got... that." Demoman downed another bottle and the Spy cringed to think of his liver.

"Can't ya let it go this one time?"

"Yeaaa, Spyyy... Spoooooook... Sppoooooi..."

The Spy felt his eye twitch, wishing he could yell out his own name to end the ridiculous differentiations of his professions.

"I'm not sure the Medic wants me drinking, either." His hand subconsciously began to massage the spot where he had taken the blow. "You guys are kind to offer such a zing to me, however it is with sadness zat I must decl- what is that?"

The Spy turned to the bartender, who was cleaning a glass innocently enough.

"You. What is zat?"

The Bartender lifted a shoulder in a half-assed shrug, giving a lazy smile. "Oh, this?" He looked to the wine he recently placed on the table: the Pinot Noir. "We just got some t'day. Unfortunate, the other grapes mutated, so we didn't get any more than this."

The Spy narrowed his eyes at the man, the wine, and the cheese fondue that was placed indiscreetly beside it. He raised an eyebrow, his arms slack and his posture more relaxed. However, his face was questioning and he felt like he was being poked fun at.

"Alright, boys," the Spy began. "I'm going to go and le... don't give me such a look! Merde..."

Disgusted, the Spy turned away from the two men giving him the most awkwardly drunken smiles possible.

"That's whatcha want, aint it... come on, Spoooooi..."

"Stop calling me zat foolish name."

"It ain't like anyone else is gon' drink it here... he took it out for you!"

"Rather tactlessly I might add," he scoffed, shooting a glare to the lazy-eyed Bartender who went back to cleaning his glass as the wine sat there and the whiff of the cheese fondue had the Spy drooling mentally. It was his moment of weakness when he realized he did not have breakfast, having been busy too early in the morning. He bit his lip.

"I don't think- Hey!"

Both men nudged the Spy forward.

"Just a sip. Won't do ya any harm."

Spy furrowed his eyebrows. "You can't have 'just a sip' when it comes to fine wine."

"Pansy."

"Are we really resorting to names here- Why do I even bother arguing with two drunk men?" He threw his hands into the air, looking up at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. He lowered his hands and sat on the stool, yanking the wine glass out of the man's hand. The Bartender did not look shocked, merely smiled as he poured out the wine for the Spy.

It didn't take long for it to get out of hand.

Spy sat between the two men, both with their arms around his neck. His face was reddish, the cheese fondue eaten, and the wine all gone. Fortunately for the bartender, they weren't hammered enough to start singing.

Spy had a hand on his head while he swayed from to side. He didn't speak, and when he did it was mostly in a very slurred, inaudible French. The Engineer was placid and fine with simply humming the anthem while the Demoman continued to slam alcohol like there was no tomorrow.

"I love ya, man..." Engineer mumbled, towards the Spy.

"Mon ami..." The Spy looked at him dead in the eye. "Je t'aime..."

"Wazzat mean?" Demoman butt in.

"Hell if I know!" Engineer laughed, throwing his head back.

Spy laughed too, though he didn't know what was funny. Or what he just said.

The Bartender sat behind the bar, legs on the wood he worked so hard to polish. "You boys want to play a card game?"

"Aaaa... no! You... you are tryin' ta get free money."

"You caught me."

All four men laughed, despite the fact that three of them were rather intoxicated and still didn't know the humor of what they laughed about. The feeling of being happy, an illusion or not, was enough to lift their spirits for the inevitable fighting that the next day would bring. The first day for the BLU Spy to pretend to be one of the REDs... and be shot by his own team.

When the laughter faded, a singular voice became a lot more apparent. The four men hushed to hear the bellowing of a worried Australian.

"Spy! Where are you?"

"Sssomeone's lookin' for ya, Spoy."

"Eh?" the Spy kept his eyes closed, hunched forward and laying his head down on the table. "Shhh! I'm not here..."

"Eyy! Sniper, he's in here."

"Fuck you, Engineer." Spy grunted, his words slurred but the connotation still clear.

The Sniper entered the bar, his shades perched on his head and his hair practically everywhere from the wind. "You ran off on me, Spy. You were supposed to wai- are you drunk? God..." Sniper threw his arms up. "He's HURT, guys, y'can't just let him get drunk whenever the hell he wants!"

Spy hid his face, the Sniper walking closer and pulling his head up by the collar. The Spy's eyes were clearly dilated, the whites of his green eyes turning a light red. The Spy did not fight back, only swayed and smiled at the Sniper, who looked frustrated and yanked him out of the chair. The Spy stumbled until the Sniper readjusted the bumbling man.

"Fuck... I don't want to deal with the Medic. An' I ain't takin' the blame for this solely alone, remember that," Sniper threatened, yanking the drunken Frenchman along and out of the bar. The Spy put up a fuss, wishing to stay, but the scrawny man with no energy didn't do much else but whine and flail. Nothing that couldn't be taken care of.

"I wanna go back..."

"Enough."

"But they were fun..."

"You're not ready to be out of the base, I shoulda left you."

"Why are you being so cold... what a fucking ass..."

Sniper groaned, opening the side door of the Camper and pushing the Spy inside, on top of his blazer. "Lay down."

"You don't hafta be so... pushy!"

Sniper's groan returned tenfold and he closed the door. He went to the Driver's seat, scratching his head. "Ah... fuck me."

"Not on... ze first date, monsieur!"

"Shut the hell up back there." Sniper sighed. "I have to tell the Medic they got you drunk. I'm not taking the blame for this. Christ. You had me worried I lost you again. I swear to god, you are more trouble than you're worth!"

Spy was dead asleep on the bed. Sniper shook his head and began to drive back to the base. The day had cooled down with time, making the trip back to the heat-scorched, barren desert a lot easier. Sniper cruised along to revel in the time that the outdoors was actually within bearable weather. He also wanted to kill time for the Spy's inevitable hangover to die off before he saw the Medic. Sniper parked off to the side and got into the back of the camper where his Spy remained sleeping. He sat on the bed with the Spy, his hand brushing over every aspect of his own face. He then looked at the balaclava, the roadblock essentially concealing the young man's handsome features.

"...Why d'ya do this shit, Spy... I feel like yer intentionally toyin' with me. I ain't used to having to sit back an' watch a man run circles around me... fuck. I feel like some little girl with a school crush-"

"You should let me play with you some more..."

"Fuck," the Sniper exclaimed, staring down at the Spy he thought was asleep. "What the hell were ya doin' all this time when ya were quiet?"

Spy sat up, his smile jumbled but pretty all the same. His eyes remained dilated and eyes red. Sniper folded his arms, looking away from the mess that was his Spy.

"Don't matter t'me," Sniper mumbled. "Go t'sleep. I can't go back wit' ya babbling shit y'don't even know is true."

"I want to fuck you."

Sniper looked appalled, however his face tinged red from the outburst. As desperate as he was for a good fuck- he'd be willing to just screw anyone at this point -a drunk man was going too far.

"No," he muttered.

"Screw me like one of your filles australiennes."

"What the fuck are ya goin' on about?" Sniper frowned. Spy didn't know that Australian females were almost as manly as the males. Sniper only met a few Australian men in which he had an interest in, all persecuted for their lack of masculinity. "Look, quit talkin' so much. You sound like an idiot."

"I am hurt by your... ze ... ze sounds coming out your hole!"

"Piss..."

"Why are you so mean, monsieur? I just want a nice fuck... we're out in a..." Spy glanced out the window, seeing the base in the distance. "A... oversized sand palace and I haven't had a... good fuck fer... ever."

"Stop speaking."

"Make me."

Spy sprawled out on the bed, smiling at the Sniper. He imagined himself as accurately as he could; his body warm, sandwiched between the bed and the Australian. He heard the Sniper say "yes," in his mind, and got on his knees where he could be better toyed with.

From the Sniper's point of view, the image was more realistic; A drunk man on his side with red eyes and whining about wanting a dick up his ass. Sniper got off the camper bed. "Alright," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Should I take off my sh-"

"No, Spoy. Alright, I'm taking your ass to the Medic. I can't deal wit' this right now." He wormed his way back to the driver's seat. Wishing there was a partition between the back and the seats up front, Sniper drove along to the base while hearing the Spy's desperate moans for a fuck.  
The intense feeling in Sniper's pants would have to wait for when he was alone.


	11. hard hat and blind guy

The Medic returned home late. His legs had the feel of weights as he lugged them into the base. The Heavy, closely behind him, constantly questioning his well-being. The Medic shook his head, tired of telling the bigger man that he was fine and that the trip was amazing. It was the break he had needed from all the fighting. He rested a hand on the infirmary handle.

"Heafy, you've pleased me. Do not think zat you didn't, for I had a wonderful time. I just haff to check on the Spy. He returned vith no scratches, but I do not believe for eine minute zat they did not mess with him in any way." Medic frowned. "May it be psychological or physical, he is our teammate, and-"

"Doktor works himself too hard."

"It is my job and pleasure," the Medic chuckled. "Plus he is family, ja?"

"Da..."

"So then do not worry. If it is to help family..."

The Heavy stood idly by as the Medic headed into the infirmary. With a pause, the Medic stared at the table with the unmistakable Spy on it. Partially wearing a shirt, his blazer draped over his chest, his pants removed and boxers the only thing remaining. It was possible to see the faintest of a wet stain. His balaclava remained perfectly untouched. One arm draped off the infirmary bed, one leg up and the other dangling as well.

The Medic's mouth was ajar, his eyebrows furrowed and his glasses hung off the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Heavy bit his lip in an attempt to respect his Medic. He couldn't help but find the image amusing for the usually reserved man, on both accounts.

"Heafy, please leave."

His smile quickly faded. "But, Doktor..."

"I haff to work on my patient," the Medic smiled again, turning to the Heavy. The smile, even on the gentle doctor, had its usual malicious intent. "Get out."

With a sigh, the Heavy turned and left, not wishing to be in the room.

"It is never the patient," Medic repeated to himself. Exhaling sharply, the Medic slunk over to the discombobulated man. "Good evening, my little patient," he whispered in the man's ear, receiving nothing but mumbles and groans.

"You seem rather distraught," the Medic cooed. "And a little sickly. We return to fighting tomorrow, Herr Spy. Why are you zis way?"

"I... was... got drunk."

"I see," he murmured, as if he did not know and had to ponder the fact himself. "Was zere others zat may be undergoing such a state of turmoil, or... ze hangover?"

"Oui," the Spy groaned. "Hard hat and... blind guy."

"Ohhh," Medic chimed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pulling his mouth away from the Spy's ear and removing his glasses with the same hand. He began to clean them as a tedious little thing to do during the interrogation. "Who brought you here... vas it Sniper?"

"Oui."

"Sounds about right," Medic chuckled. "He cares a lot for you. I wish you would acknowledge that."

The Spy gurgled. Medic raised an eyebrow, his face scrunched into an odd, mixed emotion of disappointment, anger and amusement.

"Where are... 'ze hard hat and blind guy'?"

"...who?"

Medic sighed. It was silly of him to think he could get all the answers. "So zey did not come home vith you and Sniper," he continued as slowly as possible, thinking his words through to be thorough. "But zey are in the base, right? Are zey still drunk?"

"... are you... coming onto me? I mean, yer cute... I'll take that... Sniper wouldn't fuck me anyway."

Medic walked out the room, smiling to himself. "No, Herr Spy. Thank you, Herr Spy. I vill be back."

The walk outside was a short one. Medic knew the camper wasn't too far off to the side. He buttoned his coat to its entirety, the cool desert air a contrast from the usual scorching sun. The Medic's hair was slowly turning shades of silver, originally blonde, thanks to the stress of his sometimes reckless team. Aside from his Heavy, the Sniper and Pyro were his main source of relaxation. He slipped his hands inside his coat sleeves, exhaling in large bursts to keep his body warm. The shivers helped as well.

His eyes, a calming baby blue, were frenzied on the field. In the late evening, his felt himself much calmer and de-aging already. It was the only time in which he was not running about screaming orders, being backstabbed by the newly deceased Spy, to his knowledge. He wasn't above fighting, but much preferred to help his teammates. On the field, he felt like God, with the intelligence, healing powers, and the ancient age as well.

"Aiden," hummed the Medic.

The Sniper saw the confrontation coming. He got up quickly, pulling up his pants and pushing away the hand lotion underneath the bed.

"Do clean up vill you?"

Sniper's face flushed. "Clean up whut," he responded, hoping that it was not as obvious as he thought.

"...The usual mess," Medic threw him a bone.

Sniper bit his lip. He wanted to word it carefully in case the Medic was calling his masturbation usual, which it wasn't. Not always.

"You mean... the piss? The clothes?"

"...Yes," the Medic rolled his eyes. "Zose two habits I haff to get you to break. Do hurry, it is cold." The door quickly opened, the Sniper giving a small smile.

"No mess this time around, with all the time from the Spy's return and their Spy's death-"

"Yes, yes, I know," the Medic waved him off mid sentence. "Zis is not a friendly chat and you know zat, so let us cut to the chase..." Medic invited himself in, Sniper moving off to the side rather than protest. He sat himself on the bed, in which the Sniper thanked himself for not leaving any mess.

"Why was ze Spy drunk?"

"Uh," Sniper hesitated. He shouldn't have, for it only led to suspicion.

"You were not taking him drinking for... other reasons, right?" Medic smiled curtly.

"NO, Doc! Can't believe you'd even think that 'bout me."

The Medic chuckled. "I heard something about the Demoman and..." Medic paused. Hard hat could mean two people.

"The Engineer," Sniper filled in. "Yeah, I took the Spy out of the infirmary, you know, because he was just cooped up in the base and he was wonderin' about... I figured he deserved some fresh air. So we went for a l'il drive... he had wore all 'is fancy stuff so I was worried an' I told him to take it off and he did."

Medic raised an eyebrow. Sniper didn't fall for the bait and continued.

"I went to put it back in th' camper, but he was gone seconds later. Y'know... cloaking and all..."

"I vill haff to speak to them," Medic nodded. "Thanks, Aiden."

"You never let me call you your name," Sniper groaned. "Why do you call me mine?"

"We are friends," Medic smiled.

"Friends share names!"

"Good night, Aiden." Medic pushed himself off the one person bed, walking towards the door. "Also, I hear Spy tried to fuck you. Surprised you didn't take him up on it."

Medic smiled to himself as he left, preferring to leave the Sniper's reaction to his words to his own imagination.


	12. Trust

When the Medic reached the door with the wrench decal on it, he rested an ear on the side of it, wondering if the Engineer was asleep. When he heard the sound of metal being toyed around with, he spoke through the door in a voice that was barely audible, but still dripping with malicious venom under the guise of doctor-like compassion.

"Thomas," he murmured, brushing a hand along the decal. "You need to open the door, right now."

The sound of metal twisting abruptly stopped. Both the hallway and the room were silent, with no sign of the other making a noise. Eventually, the Medic heard the shuffling of bed covers.

"Herr Tom, you know who zis is. You know I haff the key to your room. If you vere to jump into your bed now, I vould walk back to my office and return vith not only the key, but needles to help your... hangover as vell."

More moments of awkward hesitance. The room remained silent, the Engineer under the covers of his warm room. On the ground lay a broken little robotic toy. With all the gentleness in the world, he had set it down on the carpet for limited noise.

The Medic gave the man a few more minutes to himself, then spoke again. "It is unfortunate zat you test the team Medic's patience," he cooed, giving a sincere frown. "It vill also be unfortunate vhen you need healing on the team, and he's just not there to give it to you..."

Engineer bit his lip, biting back the remark about his dispenser.

"After all, that shabby little portable refrigerator vill not help vhen you are shot multiple times by your sentry," the Medic continued, turning away from the door. "Zat is still a problem, is it not? Not used to the Wrangler... It is amusing vhen you come to me with your grievances. It'll be a problem vhen I am not around to fix your wounds."

Again, the comments went in one ear and bore deep into his mind, where his first reaction was to shout off in defense but his second, less spitfire reaction was to hope that the Medic would leave and not return to his room. He gritted his teeth.

"Oh. I already haff the key to your room on hand? Vhat a coincidence. And I haff my saw on hand too? I guess I can help you then, vith whatever you were making in there!"

The Engineer's eyes widened and he sprawled out from his fetal position-like sleep. He let loose a loud yawn, then walked to the door, showing shock when he saw the Medic standing there with saw in hand.

"Oh, doc! I di'nt hear ya. I was... so tired from my... trip."

"Cut ze _bullshit_, Tom."

The Engineer laughed nervously, but the good doctor's patience was worn thin by the Sniper and Spy previously. So when the doctor leaned closer to the short man, resting his uber-saw near the man's clavicle and grinning with a small tilt to his lips, the Engineer's laughter came to an abrupt end and he focused on the blue eyes staring him down.

"Thomas," he murmured, the blade of the saw grazing skin. "The Spy came back heavily intoxicated. Sniper came back worried. You came back..." Blood began to seep onto the silver, polished blade. "...drunk, but still indubitably conscious of your actions. Enough to avoid me. Now, you know I am all for my team. I vill not... maim... anyone on our team. But you do realize tomorrow we go back to fighting... now... with zis in mind, vhy did you allow the Spy to drink?"

"I..."

"You were not permitted to speak, Herr Thomas." The Medic breathed on the shorter man's throat, their heads side to side but their eyes no longer making contact. They looked on, the Medic glancing into the Engineer's room, and the Engineer viewing the corridor in which he knew no one would come to. "You allowed the Spy to drink, which is rather unjustifiable. We are now out of a Spy. Not zat we weren't prior, but he just came back from a presumably shocking ordeal, unharmed in no physical way. I do not think his mental state is fully here, but I haff not done a check up on him, and vill not be able to conduct one in his current... predicament,"

"Doc... I... ah was drunk when 'e came in. I don't know what was goin' through my head. I just... came in ta work on my-"

"Ah... to think of nothing but your profession again! It's blissful, I vill give you that." The Medic chimed, a sardonic smile creeping on his face. Engineer looked down at the saw once more, looking at his blood dirty the blade. "But zere is more to think about than vat you will make next, and zat is not the priority."

The Medic lifted the saw from his throat, brushing the dull side of it along the Engineer's cheek. Blood smeared onto his face, and he glanced at the Medic motioning away from him, to stand directly in front of the man. "Do watch what you are doing," he hummed. "I vill have to talk to Demoman as well, but I find you to be more... sensible. I vill have to talk to him another time. Gute nacht, Thomas. I must go get rest, for tomorrow does not vait."

Once the blonde doctor was gone, the Engineer sighed of relief. He wiped the blood off his throat and applied pressure to the small cut he was given. "The demon is in," he muttered, returning to his room.

* * *

When the sun came to grace both teams, neither team was happy about the day. BLU Team was out of a Scout and, to some extent, a Spy. They needed a replacement regardless. The BLU Engineer remained focused on watching the Scout recover, though no one questioned his sudden attachment to the young man. The behavior wasn't unusual when it came to the Engineer; rarely anything was normal with him.

On the RED side, their 'Spy' and their Engineer were still under the effects of a hangover. A ceasefire could not be possibly formed, as someone would definitely shoot the messenger boy, and whoever did the shooting would be the target for the day, thus the fight would continue.

Both teams had this mentality, yet neither believed the other did. So the bridge, the sewer, and the battlements remained barren for the morning. All over the rationale that if you walked up to the enemy base, you would be gunned down. Essentially, that was how it went...

Within the RED Base, groans came from the infirmary and the Engineer's room. The Demoman was fine that day, his liver already past the point of no return and into the FUBAR state. Medic fussed with his glasses, standing over the Spy. "You shouldn't have gotten drunk," he murmured. "You're lucky BLU Team is as hesitant as we are."

"I... know..."

"Get some more rest. That's the only way you'll feel better."

"D'accord," Spy gave in, turning away from the amiable doctor and closing his eyes. He slipped his hand into his pocket and clutched onto the blue dog tags. He couldn't help but think about his... acquaintance, the BLU Scout. Both of them were rather young on the team, the Scout being twenty-three and the Spy being twenty-eight. He wanted to know if his team was okay. He wanted to be with his team.

And at the same time, he did not.

The Spy allowed for a few moments of silence before he got up. Rubbing his eyes, he headed to the window. Upon seeing it locked from the outside, he pursed his lips and went to the door.

When it, too, was locked on the outside, the Spy began to feel clammy and cold, his hands unnoticeably shaking. He returned to the bed, licking his lips. _Either the Medic knows or that one day was a fluke_, he thought. _My head still hurts... I guess I'll just sleep like he suggested._

But the Spy was restless.

He had scanned the clinic upon waking up in it the first time, and it was nothing new. It was very clean, spotless. The Medic kept his cabinets locked. Unlike BLU's, which could have passed for RED's with all the blood. The medication was scattered amongst the organs in BLU's base.

_I could really go for a cigarette right now,_ the Spy thought._ It's been too long._

Fidgeting about the room, the Spy scanned in search of a cigarette, only to end his search with empty hands and an empty heart. He glanced out the window, only seeing part of the empty bridge. _Unofficial ceasefire?_ He pondered. _I really want a cigarette. I want company. My head still hurts..._

The Spy hobbled to the bed, stopping short. He felt his weight pressing down on him, as if the gravity of the world was crushing him into a thin sheet of paper. An arm outstretched, his back hunched, he gripped onto the corner of his bed. His eyesight wavered, fading in and out. Since... when was the ground green...? Groaning, he thrust himself onto the bed, hanging off the sides. The Spy dragged his hands down his face. _This... is not coming along as planned..._ He laid there, his eyes and mouth ajar and vacant. Only when he heard a voice did the vacancy in his eyes fill for a moment. He made no movements, just let his hands drop off the side of the bed. His mind was not there.

"Spoi?" Sniper questioned, one hand on the door and one on a cup of coffee. The Spy heard footsteps, calm and steady, echo in his ear as if it was the only sound in the world. The voice was distant. When it spoke, there was a ringing to it. He wanted the voice to leave, but lacked his own to demand solitude. He couldn't remember the word, either.

"Spoi! Y'okay? Y'don't look good." Sniper's face shifted from curiosity to worry, moving over to the side where the counter was to set down his coffee. Once he did, he headed back to the bed with his eyes fluttering about the room. "What were ya doin' in here... the cabinets are all open... y'weren't tryin' to overdose, were ya?"

When the room remained silent, Sniper bit his lip and hoisted the Spy onto the bed properly. "Christ... y'were messed up... not only by BLU... but by our Engineer and Demoman." Sniper set him down gently, his eyebrows furrowed. "I can't entirely blame them... I let you out of my sight... I need t'watch you. Closely... but y'won't let me. Don't even give me the time of day. Don't even know yer name. Just your face. Such a mystery t'you, but I know yer face." Sniper smiled to himself: a prideful grin, yet slightly sheepish. "I wasn't 'pposed to know, but I'm not gonna forget. It's burned in my mind, mate."

When the Spy's eyes flickered, Sniper hushed himself. Such words he only spoke to the man's body. Never his mind, for he did not want to receive rejection. He was alright with unrequited love, if he could keep it going without the other party ending it. The Sniper coiled his hand into a fist.

"What if yer not even... like me. Can't let y'hear me. My thoughts are illegal. The things I want to do to your body..." Sniper involuntarily raised a hand to the Spy's body, then quickly dropped it with an abrupt sigh. "Fuck me..." he gasped, sliding the hand into his pants instead. "What am I doing... I can't... not here," he murmured, but didn't move his hands. He kept them there, the feeling of warmth against his cock aided in its excitement. He closed his eyes and thought about Australia. The chlamydia ridden koalas. The kangaroos. The overly toned and beefy males that Sniper did not equate to. Saxton Hale.

The last one worked wonders, always. Sniper pulled his hand out of his pants, shivering of the thought of Saxton Hale and what he would possibly do. "I'm a pooftah. Or maybe the big brute'd call me a hippie. Either way, he'd have my head. But he isn't here," Sniper reasoned. "The Team's okay with that. Least... our Medic and Heavy are. They get along... Team knows about it... doesn't disapprove, but they don't throw parties an' ribbons either. Not like I'd want that..."

Sniper shook his head to break his ramble, standing alone aside from the unconscious Spy. He picked up his coffee and walked to the door way. Without turning back, the Sniper mumbled.

"See you on the field tomorrow."

Sniper skulked out the room. To his embarrassment, it was for naught, the Medic caught a glimpse of him leaving and abruptly yelled for him to stop. "What vere you doing, Herr Sniper?"

"Checking up on our teammate."

"Was he okay?"

Sniper hesitated. The Medic picked up on it. "Aiden, vat was wrong with the Spy?"

Sniper pursed his lips. The Medic narrowed his eyes. "You vill tell me," he snarled. "Zat is my patient. Your friend. More than zat!'

"Nothin' mo-"

The Medic closed his eyes, quickly raising a hand to the Sniper. "Tell me," he warned, "Or somezhing worse vill happen to you."

"He... yer cabinets were all open, I thought he might've overdosed since he was just hangin' off..." Sniper's voice trailed into silence, the Medic quickly brushing past him and into the infirmary. The Sniper remained at the doorway; he watched through the crack of the door, the Medic counting down on his supplies. When the Medic was done, he cleared his throat and returned to the infirmary entrance.

"Everything vas there," Medic nodded.

"That's... good."

"Ja," the Medic mumbled, looking off to the side. "It's almost noon, Aiden. Come get something to eat, we can look at Herr Spy later."

"What's his name?"

Medic turned to the Sniper with a small hint of confusion. "Vhy do you ask? ... You are in love with someone whose name you do not know?"

"I'm not in love, doc," Sniper cleared his throat. "Just... curious."

"Nein."

"Why? I just wanna know! I know his face!"

"You were not supposed to," Medic mumbled, looking down at the ground. The Sniper towered over him, eyes narrowed. "I know zat. As his doctor, I've seen his face once and only once. His name... it is... confidential. I do not remember."

Sniper grunted. Medic shook his head. "Let's just go eat lunch, ja?"

"Okay, doc."

The two headed for the kitchen. It had been months for the Medic since he last saw the RED Spy's face for an annual check up; his memory for faces was weak. It took him time to remember if that really was the RED Spy's face or not. When he did not come to a conclusion, he took that face on the infirmary bed to be the real RED Spy and kept his lie. When the Medic began to lag behind, he muttered to himself.

"Jean DeLaroux... What an oblivious man you are. Or are you playing with Aiden? It's always been cat and mouse with you."


	13. Bleeding RED

**AN: **sorry this is really bad probably guys. might delete and revise but its been sitting here for a while because i've been busy. just posting this so you know i'm alive and writing terribly

* * *

The BLU Scout finally regained consciousness. He sat up, alone, on the Engineer's bed. When he stepped off the bed, gripping the side for steady concentration, the door creaked open and he looked into the BLU Engineer's goggles.

"Are you okay, sport?" the Engineer gave a small smile.

"...I'm good," Scout responded, vacant.

"That's good. You've been out for a while... almost a day."

Scout's eyes widened. "Really!? Did I miss any fightin'?"

"No, we haven't gotten a replacement Spy."

"Replacement?"

Engineer's face changed to one of irritation. He explained, neglecting to mention their arguments and how the Scout had caught him attempting amputation, that their Spy was killed off hours. Essentially, he molded the Scout's memory to something more favorable. He ended the anecdote with telling the Scout he had sustained a head injury. With a smile, the Scout nodded. "Guess it was some kinda amnesia for me, huh?"

"Yeah," the Engineer gave another light hearted smile. "RED Team seems preoccupied. No one's come at all today. It's an unofficial ceasefire. I'm sure fightin' starts tomorrow, but you should git as much rest as you possibly can."

"Why am I in your room?"

"It was closer."

"...Thanks, Engie." Scout smiled. The Engineer adjusted his goggles, nodding, then left the room. The Scout laid back in bed, but got shortly restless. He glanced around the room, as dark as it was, taking note of the many robotics within. The sentry, dispenser... even a little toy-like robot looming in the corner. When nothing of interest was noted, the Scout laid back on the bed. Nuzzling into the pillow, he felt a sharp jab, like paper. He slipped his hand into the pillow case, removing a photo of the previous BLU Spy and the current Engineer.

"Wow," the Scout mumbled. "He looks... the same. And that was our Spy... our... older, Spy." The Scout wrinkled his nose. "I like the current... He's not as old as the rest of the Mercs, I reckon..." The Scout flushed when he realized he was talking to himself.

He laid down on the pillow, putting the photo back inside. The coolness aided the Scout in drifting off to sleep. Outside the door, the Engineer laid against the wall, his head drooped off to the side. With the goggles on, it was hard to tell if he was awake, but his soft snores told otherwise.

He would have to assure that the Scout's memory was remodeled in his favor.

The alternative was to admit failure, and the Engineer... _was perfect._

* * *

The Spy's violent coughs jerked him awake. His hand clutched at his chest, his throat straining and desperate for water. He threw himself out of the bed, his coughing fits wild, glancing for the nearest cup. Upon spotting one, he quickly dumped the popsicle sticks out of it and filled it with water, chugging it down immediately. His blazer was drenched, but the water did its job.

The Sniper and Medic watched frozen in the doorway. The Spy slowly turned to them.

The silence hovered in the air.

"...I'm no longer hung over."

The Medic contorted his face into something of confusion and disgust, his eyebrow raised and lip curled into an odd frown. "With that view, I'd have to disagree."

The Spy was thankful his balaclava hid his flushed face. He laid himself back down on the bed. "That aside, I really am okay. Am I permitted to leave?"

"We should find the source of zat cough, first. Let's try this," the Medic murmured, heading to the counter and grabbing a large container of pills. He took the Spy's hand, placing the light red, glowing pill in it. The medi-pill was warm and felt wonderful when the Spy swallowed it. "Doctor," the Spy smiled. "You are brilliant."

The Medic smirked. "I know zis."

Unamused, the Sniper remained off to the side.

"Thanks, my throat feels much better. What time is it?"

"About..." The Medic paused, doing the math to change the time to standard time in his head. "Two o'clock. We just had lunch. Are you hungry?"

"Just a bit."

"Should A..." The Sniper jerked out of his calm pose into a more sturdy, defensive one. The Medic flushed, preferring to use the Sniper's name but shocked that he almost let it slip out of his mouth in front of the Spy. "Ah."

The Spy blinked. They stared at each other blankly until the Sniper cleared his throat. "We should go get a little bit of food for 'im," Sniper muttered. "Perhaps, you should, doc."

The Medic looked appalled. "I am his doctor, not his service boy! Do not degrade what I do!"

"You'd make a good nurse."

The Medic was fuming, his cheeks turning red along with his nose. Soon, his face would be nothing but a bright tomato. The Spy chuckled. "I can get my own food, zank you. I'd like to move around anyway, seeing as I finally returned but have been confined..." With that, he left the room. The Medic turned away from the Sniper, who he could easily observe and find him to be irritated.

"I didn't say it."

"Y'almost did."

"But I didn't." The Medic's retorts were childish, but the Sniper sighed and dropped the topic. Unfortunately, the Medic remained persistent.

"Vhy do you vish to know his name yet do not tell the man zat you are so interested in your own?"

"Because," the Sniper muttered. "I dislike the name. And, he's..." He turned away, grunting. "I don't trust 'im."

"But you are in love with him."

"It is not love," he corrected. "Perhaps it's more that I want an attractive guy. And he... he is just that."

"You do not trust him to take hold of your heart... and not crush it."

"Yea."

Silence permeated the air and the two walked wordlessly out.

* * *

They found the Spy, rubbing his stomach, talking to the Pyro. They watched as the two interacted, the Spy having virtually no problems understanding the masked creature. When the suited demon walked away with a nod of gratefulness, the Medic and Sniper went by the Spy's side.

"May I ask vat you were talking about, Herr Spy?"

"Oh?" The Spy turned his head, staring at the two. "We were simply discussing my well being. The Pyro was asking what I wanted to eat for dinner later, and I requested for... him to make what he wishes."

"You... were talkin' to him. That's new fer ya. You never got along with 'im before."

_What?_ The Spy's heart skipped a beat. _Fuck. I thought... this team... what did this RED Spy do? Who did he have an alliance with?_The Spy spewed the first tangible lie he could come up with.

"I have been gone for a long time," he murmured, looking away from the men to make it easier on himself. Normally, he would not be timid. But he was in enemy parameters. He did not want to end up like the recently deceased RED Spy. "I have been tortured by the BLU Team. I do not wish to have enemies on my own team with rivals like zem."

The Medic nodded. Sniper narrowed his eyes. _Did he not believe me?_The Spy wondered.

"Ya don't need ta worry 'bout the BLU team," Sniper kept his lips tightly pressed, every word sounding strained. "We'll go hard on 'em. Surely it won't be hard with our Spoi back, right?"

"Are you calling me Shirley, herr Sniper-"

"Stop."

The Spy chuckled lightly. "You two seem like such good friends. I have not noticed zis relationship before."

"It is strictly professional-"

"We're lovers."

The Spy looked taken aback, with a lack of words to say. The Medic chuckled, his shoulders moving up in a quick gesture while the Sniper fumed.

"Quit making jokes like that!"

The Spy sighed of relief. The lie was bought easily, and the two were arguing with each other once again, allowing attention to be off him. He looked in the direction in which the Pyro went. The man underneath the flame retardant suit was kind. The Spy was skeptical it was a man at all. Where his own BLU Pyro had a gruff tone of voice to him, this Pyro was softer and timid. He hoped he wasn't like that on the field; he doubted he was.

After all, the Spy had many scalding burns day after day, many dreams of running from its crazed laughter. Boils he had to sit in the infirmary and deal with them being picked at by a Medic who would rather experiment on them than medicate them. Inflammations and itchy skin. Wounds from having an arm hacked off. All that had been recovered by the next day, but did not leave the corner of his mind that allowed him to shift restlessly at night.

And later, the Spy realized, he also had a wonderful dinner in which the Pyro made what he assumed to be his favorite- pasta. Though number ten of the hundreds of things he'd love to eat, the Pyro did make the sauce wonderful, which made the pasta itself delicious. The two sat in conversation next to each other while the Team watched, occasionally breaking it up to formally toast the Spy's safe return. Each member had positive words to say, though the Soldier, Engineer and Demoman spoke the least at the table, aside from the Sniper choosing not to say a word, though the Spy did not mind that at all.

"Tomorrow's a fightin' day," the Engineer sneered. "Y'ready for it, Spy?"

"Definitely," the Spy jeered. He lost his cocky smile when the conversation shifted to battle plans involving sending him in. Though he did not once disagree, the Spy found himself questioning if he was really ready to go against his team. After all, he was BLU at heart.

_And lived in a world drenched in RED._

* * *

The day finally cruised to its end, the Spy sitting on the battlements with a cigarette in hand. How his plan begun, essentially, but he was looking at it from a different side and angle... the BLU Base, his home, sat on the far side of the bridge. It was unusual for him to be on this side, let alone sitting casually taking a few drags of his cigarette as if nothing was a threat, though the color RED alone was enough to leave him on edge.

"Mind if I sit with ya?"

Though the Spy had to resist the urge to say no to the lanky Australian standing behind him, he simply patted the space on the battlements next to him.

"Are ya afraid to get back in an' fight?"

_You jump right to the point_, Spy thought. "Why are you asking such a silly question of me, mon ami? I have had enough time to rest... zis is not the time to coddle me."

"I am not," the Sniper spoke quickly. Defensively. "I am worried 'bout the team. If you mess up-"

"If you were truly worried about ze team, you would not be here solely giving me encouragement." The Spy never had eye contact with the Sniper, staring out vacantly to the distance for the longest while. The two sat in silence, the Sniper swinging his legs to give his body some motion to generate heat. The Spy held out two fingers, a cigarette in-between them. The Sniper glanced at the cigarette before taking it and allowing the Spy to light it.

"Do not worry," the Spy murmured. The wind almost overtook his voice. The Sniper strained to hear, all the while trying to seem like he was disinterested and detached. "I know what I am doing. I have not lost my position or loyalty," though he choked up on the last word. He passed it off for another coughing fit and continued. When he cleared his throat, he continued. "We will win this day. And we will continue doing so."

"I sure hope so," the Australian chimed in. "Don't hesitate to back down."

"I am not ze man to do such a thing, Sniper." He turned away from the Australian, who released a huff of smoke and got to his feet.

"Good to hear." The Sniper got off the battlements, rather jumped off, and headed to his bunker.

When he was gone, the Spy flicked his cigarette to the ground._  
What kind of man am I?_


	14. One of our Own

**AN: **Sorry for the suckage but I'd think you'd rather something than nothing, right? This might be revised. Also, I'm really bad with . I can't update things properly. So sorry, guys. Thank you for all the praise and criticism.

* * *

_Morning. Showtime._  
The Spy was hesitant to move even after the Administrator's announcement. The RED team shuffled to their places, leaving him to his own devices. The Spy was slow to move, the bridge being as hectic as normal. Using the Cloak and Dagger now, he slowly walked around the fighting on the bridge between Heavies and Medics. In the corner of his eye, he saw the BLU dot resting on the blonde RED doctor's forehead. Biting his lip, he wanted to yell out, to say something, to save the man's life. His hesitation did not allow for it; he continued to sneak into the BLU base. When the gunshot rang off in the distance, he didn't turshon around to mourn. When one of the Heavies' mini guns no longer spun, he didn't dwell on it more. The Engineer and Demoman could easily take the two out.

He easily penetrated the first defense of the BLU team. His old team. Fiddling with his Cloak and Dagger, he disguised himself as the BLU Medic that was no doubt running about the RED base without his Heavy. Thoughts quickly flowed to his head as he strolled about the base. _Did they replace me yet? Where is the replacement? I haven't seen a single backstab. ...Not even by me._

The Spy's slight reprimand of himself faded as quickly as it arose. He saw the BLU Scout, watching the Engineer build. The base was almost entirely empty. He turned around and headed down to the sewer, unable to confront his team of his offense, though he committed none of the sort.

"Engie," Scout murmured. For the fifth time, the Engineer's unreadable face turned to the Scout's. "Why won't ya let me go out an' get the Intel?"

"I ain't convinced yer fully well yet."

"That's not fair," Scout groaned. "I am a part of this team-"

"Yes, and we take care of our own."

Scout hushed. The Engineer went back to his sentry. He couldn't help but feel the boy glancing at his Gunslinger, which he quickly covered up with his glove. Usually, he was fine with the extra attention. But he had to be careful with the Scout.

"Can I just... wander?"

"No."

The Scout folded his arms, withholding a whine and his complaints. He had not heard the Announcer's boom of intelligence being captured on either side. It would have been more exciting than to sit and watch the Engineer work on his mini sentry. The two jerked their heads in the directions of the battlements once they heard the death gurgle of the Sniper. With a grimace, the Engineer swerved around his sentry and headed onto the balcony. The Scout let loose a quiet sigh, glancing towards the courtyard of the base. When the mini sentry beeped urgently, nicking a man's arm and in return receiving a whiny yelp, the Scout grinned and jumped off the ledge, chasing the RED team member.

The Engineer returned a minute later, hobbling to his sentry after hearing its quick notification that it had spotted someone. His eyes, though unnoticeable behind the blacks of the goggles, widened slightly when the young man was missing. He glanced to the courtyard, spotting a speck of blood. He went into the spawn, quickly patching himself up by the cabinet, and hopped off the ledge, following the little trail of blood to the sewer.

The RED Sniper grasped his arm. "Fuckin' sentry," he mumbled, sitting by the health supply in the sewer tunnel. He glanced up at the Spy. "I thought you woulda sapped that by now. You're slipping."

"I did just get over a hangover," he groaned. "And a traumatic ordeal, thank you."

"Drama queen."

"Do not bait me, Sniper."

The Sniper snickered, whereas the former BLU Spy was irate. Of course, he felt a loyalty to his team and could not disable their defenses. He allowed the Sniper to mock him, disregarding every biting comment.

"Y'shoulda listened when I said that ya could take a break. Yer just pushin' yourself. Ain't no point in..."

A gun shot rang throughout the sewer tunnels. Sniper howled, gripping onto his vest. When he pulled his hand back, blood seeped through his fingers. The two glanced down the tunnels, seeing the BLU Scout barreling towards them. "I'm out of ammo," Sniper groaned, inching back. "Waitin' for the health and ammo to respawn. Kill 'im, you've got a gun."

"It's just a revolver!" The Spy snarled. "Versus a shot gun?! Are you daft?"

"It's powerful enough! Shoot!"

The Spy let loose a low whimper. He knew that Scout- his Scout. His friend, if he had to choose between an acquaintance and the aforementioned. He gritted his teeth and raised the revolver. The Scout paused mid-run, tilting his head. His mouth was agape, with words filling his head that he could not form into sound. _Did he remember the swap? This could get ugly. I can't just pull the trigger, mon Dieu..._

"Spy, _SHOOT_." Sniper urged. "What are you waiting for? Kill the kid!"

The searing pain in his head was not brief enough. The Spy sunk to his knees, collapsing onto his chest. The splash of his head hitting the water was instantaneous. The liquid around him mended into a splendid scarlet, his eyes wide in shock and his revolver hitting the ground with a clang.

Sniper held back his yell, glancing past the bewildered Scout, whom had not pulled the trigger. With the second firing round, the Sniper was down like his teammate. Both bodies disappeared within the passing minute.

The Scout didn't move from his spot. He didn't turn. His body dropped its arms, loose and detached feeling. The gun was a ton in his arms, and he relieved himself of the duty of carrying it. He had no thoughts, his mind a genuine blank.

The man took his time walking behind the Scout. Every splash of his footsteps were in rhythm with the Scout's heartbeat. The two stood in the scarlet-colored water, the Scout's head down and his cap obstructing the view of his eyes. The man picked up the Scattergun, standing inches behind the Scout.

"I told you, I watch out for our own."

"He was one of our own," the Scout murmured.

"Not right now," the Engineer sneered, turning on his heel. He began to walk back, the Scout following him purposelessly. The young man was emptied. "He's on his own. Once the RED Team finds out, he's a goner. Ain't nothin' we can do for him."

"Why did you shoot him?"

The Engineer paused for a moment, the Scout nearly overtaking him and turning back to the shorter man. The silence crept over the two like the clouds stirred up by the constant desert fighting. Without answer, he kept walking. The Scout's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth opened in a small frown. With a near unnoticeable shake of his head, he followed the short man.

The Scout would stay and watch the sentry as he was told... He would assume that the Engineer would not have shot him if the situation wouldn't have compromised their teammate's disguise. He chose to believe his own lie. But he couldn't have shot his teammate- friend, perhaps, he did have an affinity for the man -so easily. Regardless, he wouldn't interrogate the man who had a quick trigger finger. He'd do well to avoid another confrontation like that.

* * *

Once the Spy could feel his limbs and had the ability to move them, he realized he was not in the normal spawn. Glancing around, he could easily confirm he was relocated to the Medic's infirmary. He let loose a snarl, knowing fully well who had brought him here. Once he saw the Sniper, he would hurt him. Verbally, but damaging enough.

It was then that he realized he couldn't move his limbs as much as he thought. He felt his fingers moving, could clench his hands, but that was it, to an extent. Paralysis from fear? He didn't know. Couldn't tell. Had he scanned himself in wrong? It was, after all, his first respawn for the RED team. Did something go wrong? Did they know who he was?

"Ah, you're awake," a distant, gentle voice murmured. The Spy couldn't see where the voice had come from, but he knew it was the doctor. "You had respawned hours ago- but did not move, Herr Spy. Can you move now?"

Silence, then the doctor laughed. The Spy felt his heart flutter, his mind far from his body. The laugh, prior to how he had sounded before, was much more malicious. "I did not ask if you could even speak. Can you?"

With no response, a blurry figure positioned in front of the Spy cleared to show the Medic holding a scalpel. "So you cannot, zis is good. Traitor."

The Spy's eyes widened, though it was only the feeling of his attempt to widen them. His muscles did not move. "You tampered with our information. You are not ze RED Spy. You are ze BLU bastard who, I've decided, I will perform a vivisection on. But... not before I assure myself you can feel every aching part of it."

He felt as if he was thrashing, but nothing came out of it but fatigue. What was truly wrong with his body, why couldn't he move, why why WHY?

The Medic knelt down, whispering in his ear. "Do you want to see the only part of you that's RED? Shake your head, say something... beg. Perhaps then I won't do zis."

His body went cold when this was his only opportunity to scream, to plead for help. Sniper, anyone, please, this isn't what he wanted. What did he want? Revenge? Then it was only fair. He knew he couldn't scream anyway. He did not try.

"Then we shall start." The Medic smiled, putting the scalpel to his collarbone. The straightforward slice of every layer of skin dragging slowly down to his stomach was agonizing. The Spy wanted to scream, to cry, some sort of pain release. But nothing. He lay motionless, his body jerking occasionally to the slow pull of the scalpel through his skin. The Medic pulled his skin back, holding it down at the sides by needles. He grasped every organ, brushing them with his fingers.

"Your stomach is great, looks beautiful and well conditioned. Your lungs! So powerful. Probably filled with those cigarettes. What a shame. Ah... and your heart." He grasped the heart tightly, the Spy finally ripping his mouth open and allowing a scream. The sound of his own scream was inhuman. The Medic smiled. "What a beautiful voice box. I will have to play with it, but..."

He felt the hand grow into a death grip on his heart. No other words escaped the Spy's mouth, but the one scream. _Someone, help me, please. I betrayed... no, I was never RED. I won't lie, I was never RED. Thus, I never betrayed you. I am a BLU Spy. But I don't deserve this, no one deserves this. I... I... I deserve death, but why? Why this way? No, no no..._

"Stop it, doc."  
The voice of the Sniper was the last thing he heard. The image of the angry doctor's unforgiving hand being grasped by the Sniper's was assuring... but his vision quickly faded to black.

* * *

The Spy jerked up and out of his nightmare. How many hours had passed, minutes? Indeed, he was on the infirmary bed, but not bound to it. Slowly, he checked his chest. Nothing. There was a phantom pain in his head, but no other aches. He flexed his arms and legs, assuring himself that he could move.

Then he keeled over, vomiting profusely.  
_What have I gotten myself into..._


	15. this chapter is 1337 words long

The Spy was shocked to see only ten minutes had passed. He wondered how much of that was his respawn. He talked to the doctor in a bashful manner as the man cleaned up his mess. The Spy lay on the infirmary bed. "Medic," he said in-between coughs, "I think something is wrong with me..."

The man wearing the mask turned to the Spy with an expression that was far from distasteful. "I have gone past the realm of thinking that to 'I'm cleaning up a man's vomit. I'm not a janitor. Why am I doing this, when I need to be out on the field'. ...It's okay," the doctor added when the Spy looked pitiful and apologetic. "I am sure the Heavy will cope without me. Likewise will our reckless Soldier. Not that he allows me to heal him much anyway. We do have a problem- beyond your apparent sickness -with you. You took a good five minutes to respawn, since A... ah." The Medic shook his head.

"You knowing ze Sniper's name must be his worst nightmare."

"I am accustomed to saying it," the Medic retorted, defensive. He continued without allowing the Spy to get another word in. "the Sniper died after you. He brought you here, you spawned unconscious. I was thinking we remove you from the system entirely, and readmit you. We have our engineer looking at it right now."

The Spy felt his body drop in temperature. His thoughts were clouded by the idea of his swap failure. If he was to be caught now...

"Am I allowed to go back on the field?"

The Medic raised an eyebrow. "You would want to?" He looked toward the mop and bucket filled with stomach fluids. "Will this happen again? I've no interest in seeing what you eat, though I wonder if I could find a whole cigarette inside you."

The Spy closed his eyes, trying to disregard the joke that the Medic teased him with. In reality, the vomit was from his nightmare, upon seeing his own insides coddled by the very man in front of him. Why was he having dreams, though? Respawn was supposed to be somewhat instantaneous. If it took him time to return...

"I will be more careful," he murmured. "And no, it won't happen again. I had..." he paused, wondering if stating the fact that he had a nightmare would be acceptable. "...a small nightmare while I was unconscious. I dreamed of myself dismantled. I saw my heart, my stomach..."

"Was there a cigarette?"

"None of the sort, you devilish ass."

"Ha," he chuckled. "Alright. Well, if you wish to return to the battle, I vill allow you to. I would enjoy going as well. Try not to die. "

The Spy nodded, slipping off the bed and hobbling out the room. The Medic carried the content of the bucket out of the room, leaving the mop aside and his mask on. He followed behind the Spy, separating once he cloaked and headed towards the BLU base. The good doctor passed the Pyro protecting the absent Engineer's sentry and stood on the battlements beside the Sniper. Upon the smell hitting his nose, the Sniper whirled around, disgusted.

"Th' hell is that?"

"Vomit."

"Well don't try to cover it up or nothin'! I enjoy the smell!"

"That's good, Aiden, it's the Spy's." he smiled. The Sniper still looked repulsed.

"I ain't that fond of the man, git off the battlements b'fore you're shot."

"Of the duration of the conversation, their Sniper has been staring at us laughing."

"Wot," the Sniper jerked his attention back to the laughing opposition. The BLU Sniper's hat was being waved while the man pointed towards the two and laughed.

"It appears he was scoped in on you the entire time. Your face _was _priceless, I'll say."

The Sniper fumed, his cheeks a tint of dark red. "Get off."

The Medic set down his bucket. "Take that shit with ya!" the Sniper whined. The Medic smiled back up at him, removing the mask from his face and sliding off the battlements. "What am I supposed to do with this..."

The Spy breezed past the BLU Heavy on the bridge. He paused for a moment, decloaking to appear as the BLU Medic. The RED Sniper watched as the Spy caught the Heavy's attention once they neared the double doors. His eyes widened as the Heavy turned his minigun on the Spy. He motioned forward to jump off the battlements to come to his aid, though he did not expect much save to die for it. When his foot kicked the bucket placed in front of him, his face shifted into a more amused one as the Heavy and the 'Medic' were revolted by the contents falling on them.

"What is smell?"

"Vomit?"

The Spy fled to the sewer as the Heavy remained preoccupied with the nauseating smell of one's bodily fluids on him. Determined, though equally as disgusted, he continued into the RED base. The Sniper felt, and looked, bad for what he had done, until he glanced towards the BLU side of the desert.

The BLU Sniper was still laughing on the other side of the field. Aiden, however, was unamused. "It wasn't funny, y'wanker!" He yelled across to the BLU doppelganger. When that didn't stop his laughter, Aiden's bullet did.

What seemed like minutes turned to hours. The Spy had done his best to not die- he was also more relentless with the BLU Engineer's sentry, disabling it and killing the man before he could easily put the barrel of his shotgun down his throat -and still ended up lower than the rest of his team on the scoreboard. When the war was over and dinner came around, they pointed fingers at the man for not being on top. The Medic stood, while the Soldier spent much of his time reprimanding the Frenchman.

"Stop," the Medic snarled toward the boisterous Soldier. "I have reason to believe that the BLU team tampered with our Spy's data. Our Engineer has been working on the respawn memory for a while now, and is on break." He nodded to his RED teammate. "Even with those problems, he still did destroy the demon Engineer's sentry and killed him. Multiple times. It was moreso the Engineer who was the problem- the man is good with a shotgun -so having him gone was good enough for our Scout to cap the intel once or twice. Let's not scold the man for not being at his fittest when he's gone through such a traumatizing ordeal. "

The team hushed. The Soldier looked defiant, but the Demoman gave the Frenchman a pat on the back and a reassuring burp. The Spy gave a fragile smile. He was still terrified of the results that the Engineer would receive once he tampered with the information. Would he have to kill him as well? Not only would that be risky, but he was beginning to grow- shamelessly -attached to the RED team.

But his life was more important. To him anyway. If the RED Engineer must die, so be it. It would be after his information is fixed. Or... discovered to be a fraud.

He shook his head, nodding. "Thank you, Medic."

The blonde doctor's gentle smile was more than enough for the Spy's heart to waver ever so slightly. He remained quiet for the rest of the dinner as the RED Pyro set down plates for them all to eat. The Sniper remained focused on the Spy. The Demoman drank most of his alcohol, leaving no space for the food while the Soldier scarfed down every scrap. The Medic ate next to the Heavy, both eating calmly. The Scout spoke most of the time, leaving his neighbor, the Engineer, distraught.

Tomorrow would be a new story.


	16. an: an apology

AN: Hey guys... Still alive here. That's awkward.

Anyway. So I can't really locate the new file to this story. Nor the .wps. (Why the hell did I use WPS?)

So... that's weird.

"But, Erufuu, you could still continue..."

I wrote the entire thing already. I don't want to rewrite; sorry.

"But Erufuu, literally no one really cared but a few choice people."

And I thank you all for reading and coping with my pessimism!

I started a new fic on a new account (did I mention I'm stupid?) about Borderlands. ( s/9412410/1/Can-You-Hear-Me)  
(no idea if my writing has gotten better or worse.)

I'll probably do TF2 in the future there.

If I could move this there I would, because I kind of want - oh my god my cat is so cute - to delete this account and stuff.

mhm.

thanks loves.


End file.
